Uncharted: The Tides of War
by TheArchaeologist
Summary: Nathan Drake's hunt for a legendary artifact becomes a race to find a weapon that would completely revolutionize warfare. Will he keep it from falling into the wrong hands, or will his enemies and the mysterious beings that defend the weapon defeat him?
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

A young man sitting at his carved oak desk shifted uncomfortably as he scribbled notes into his small black notebook. The more he researched, the worse his fears became. The men he had recently become employed by were dangerous, that much was now apparent. And now they were planning something big. Something catastrophic.

A knock was heard on the door and he spun around quickly, a look of surprise on his face. A tall figure stood in the doorway, a dark silhouette framed by the light outside. The young man's room was entirely dark except for the lamp that illuminated the pile of books on his desk.

"Gather your things. The plane taking you to Austria will be leaving within the hour".

The researcher recognized the voice of one of his employers, but for some reason that was not comforting. He didn't trust the man one bit. Still, he had to at least pretend until he could meet the other members of the team.

"That's kinda short notice. Why so soon?" He asked, closing his laptop after saving some files and pushing all the books into his backpack.

"We were waiting until the last member of the team had responded to our request. Now that he has, we must hurry."

"So he has agreed to help us?"

"Not yet, but I guarantee he will."

The young man nodded and turned to his still open journal. He very deeply hoped that the new member of the team would live up to their reputation. Everything depended on that.

"I'll be out in a minute. I have a few more things I need to write down."

"Take your time. After all, we wouldn't want you to make any errors."

Despite the general nature of the comment, the young man couldn't help but feel as though it were a threat. He closed his eyes and swallowed his fear trying as hard as he could to convince himself that his employers were not aware that he was on to their plan. The door closed behind him and he stared at the journal. All of his research was recorded there. If they found it, if they knew he had realized the truth… Well he preferred not to think about what would happen then. He pulled his laptop back out and scrolled through the page he had been looking at most recently. A file on the man who could save his life, or condemn him to death. Nathan Drake. Treasure hunter for hire. Well known for his effectiveness, but also for his non-materialistic views. He was infamously known for loving money, but unlike most people in the business, he had morals.

The young man ran his hand through his black hair, a habit which resulted in it being perpetually messy. His dark brown eyes were bloodshot from all the work he had been doing, but he knew it was far from over. Most of his things were already packed for the trip, so he knew that he had time for more research before needing to leave. He turned up his music and sang softly to himself as he went about his work. He tried to remain positive, but everything he read merely confirmed his fears.

The researcher suddenly snapped to attention as he noticed something written in the book he had been taking notes from. One passage, just a few short sentences, had given light to the countless hours of research the young man had been conducting. He leaned back and stared at the book in awe. Suddenly everything made sense. Well, most of it. Enough that he knew the stakes were even higher. He flipped to the cover of his journal and felt inspired to write a quote by Julius Caesar that seemed to outline everything the young man had learned.

"_Fortune__,__ which has a great deal of power in other matters but especially in war__,__ can bring about great changes in a situation through very slight forces__."_

Suddenly the door flung open and the lights were flicked on. The young man cried out and covered his eyes, turning to see one of his employer's many soldiers standing in the doorway.

"American! We leave in 15 minutes. Move, now!"

"Alright, alright, hold on. I remember when archaeology used to be _easy_." He said dryly as he closed his journal and slipped it into his pocket, pausing briefly as his mind wandered back to what he had just read. This was way bigger than he had thought. More than catastrophic. Apocalyptic.

"I hope you really can help." He muttered as he glanced at the picture of Nathan Drake that was still up on his laptop. He shut it down and slid it in his bag, glancing around the very plain room that has no windows, only a small bed in the corner and his desk in the middle. There was also a small bookcase to the side which was stuffed with books. Many of these books had overflown and lay on the floor. The archaeologist sighed to himself as he turned to follow the soldier, duffel bag in hand and backpack slung over his shoulder, on his way to Austria to do a dangerous job for his dangerous employers, all the while relying on a man he had never met to join him in stopping the potential end of the world. He shook his head as he trudged out of the large estate and towards the private jet that awaited him. A sad smile played on his lips as yet another quotation by Julius Caesar came to mind.

"The die is cast".

_**Hope you all enjoy this little preview. I will post Chapter 1 on Wednesday, and a new chapter every Wednesday from then on. Please give me lots of reviews and criticisms, it will help me with the chapters that follow. Because I wrote the chapters with the intention of being a novel, they are a bit long. Each is about 3,000-5,000 words, although I've only finished half the novel (10 chapters) so far. Thank you very much and happy reading!**_


	2. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Nathan Drake turned up the volume on his car radio and leaned his hand out the window, relishing the cool spring air flowing over his arm. He gently hummed to the song, feeling highly content as he drove through the empty fields. He allowed his mind to wander briefly, knowing that out here he would not have to worry about traffic or anything else outside of his car. His thoughts were disrupted when he glimpsed a highway sign that read "Hilversum- 10 km" and he remembered exactly why he was driving through the Dutch countryside.

A few weeks ago, back in his Florida home, he had received an email from a man by the name of Piet van Meer, an antiquities collector who specialized in ancient weaponry. The email had been very brief, explaining that van Meer wanted Drake to retrieve something for him, he would be paid a hefty amount, and all expenses would be covered. Attached was a plane ticket to Holland and directions to van Meer's estate on the outskirts of Hilversum, a city about 30 kilometers southeast from Amsterdam. While Drake was not entirely comfortable with the idea of meeting his employer without knowing what he was being asked to do, the trip had been paid for. Not to mention visiting the Netherlands was on his bucket list. Besides, he was used to it. He was constantly being hired by arrogant, pretentious, high-class socialites trying to possess some vestige of a past civilization's wealth to put display so that way they could seem even more pretentious to their arrogant, high-class socialite friends. They believed money could buy the world for them. The sad part was, for the most part, they were right.

Nate slowed the rental car as he pulled near the long driveway at the entrance of the van Meer estate. He whistled lowly to himself as he drove through the massive gate that was set in the large stone wall and closer to the huge and eloquently designed complex that van Meer considered a "house". He snorted sarcastically as an old valet gestured for him to pull over in front of the house, opened the car for him, and then drove off to a large barn-type building that likely served as a garage for van Meer's thirty-something cars. Maybe even a plane.

As Drake entered the estate, he was not surprised to find the interior even more beautiful than the exterior, and at the same time unimpressively cliché. Drake stood in the lobby area for a moment, gazing around the marble room. Display cases housed various swords, gun, knives, flails, spears, and any other type of weapon that had seen battle in past lives. The walls also exhibited portraits of stiff war heroes or artistic renderings of famous battles.

"Dhr. van Meer is in his office, Dhr. Drake." A voice said behind him.

Drake turned to see the old valet standing in the doorway.

"Upstairs, down the hall, and the last door on the right." The old man continued, staring at Drake who smiled awkwardly and raised his hand in a half wave.

"Err, thanks pal. I'll head up now."

Drake walked up the stairs, not turning around but still feeling the valet's eyes watching him the entire time. Something didn't feel right. Drake was suddenly on his guard. Who was Piet van Meer? What did he want?

Drake reached the last door on the right and paused. Someone was speaking in Dutch on the other side. Was it van Meer? The conversation sounded one sided, so Drake assumed it was a phone call. It was clearly an argument, and he caught enough words to know it was about van Meer's collection, but that was not very enlightening. Drake was sure he also heard his name a few times, and he cursed himself for not knowing enough Dutch to follow along.

The phone conversation came to an end and Drake waited a few seconds before knocking. The door swung open almost immediately, and Drake got his first look at his new employer. Piet van Meer was very tall, at least a foot taller than Drake, and very thin. Everything about him was sharp and angular, but the way he moved was very fluid and theatrical. He wore on his face an impossibly wide smiled, but his shining green eyes, like two emeralds, did not echo the smile. His long blonde hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, accentuating his sharp features even further. Even his small, trimmed goatee was a sharp triangle jutting from his angular chin.

"Dhr. Drake! So nice to finally meet you!" van Meer cried out dramatically with a sweep of his arms. "Please, come in! I apologize for not being able to meet you in the lobby, but I had some business over the telephone. My assistant and I are currently in a disagreement about a particular artifact. But we will speak more of that later. I hope you had a chance to explore my humble abode, and maybe take a look at my collection. What do you think?"

Van Meer spoke quickly as he led Drake into his office, a huge room lined with bookcases and more displays on the walls, all except for one which was a floor to ceiling window viewing the distant city.

"I'd hardly call your house humble, Mr. van Meer" Drake said, a bit overwhelmed by van Meer's buoyant presence. "But I feel like the same guy designs all these places." Drake chuckled. Van Meer turned and looked at him with a look of surprised confusion.

"These places?"

Drake shook his head, trying to not seem rude to his new employer. "Never mind. Thinking out loud. As for your collection, it's fairly extensive. When did you start collecting?" Van Meer's face lit up again, but his eyes remained fixed on Drake as he walked around looking at the display cases.

"Oh, ever since I was a child I suppose. It has been an addiction ever since then. That dagger there was my first piece. It has been in my family for many generations." Drake looked at the rough-hewn blade and nodded. It looked authentic enough, and probably B.C. He turned to van Meer and smiled for the first time since entering the room.

"But you want to add to your collection, is that it?"

Van Meer sat behind his desk and gestured for Drake to sit in the chair opposite. Drake got the sensation again that this was all too cliché. It was like van Meer was basing the whole meeting on movies he had seen.

"Yes, Dhr. Drake, I am looking to expand it every day, although as you can imagine it is not very easy. Authentic weapons from times of old are not exactly easy to come by. That is why I need men like you." Drake nodded and was about to speak again, but van Meer continued, not seeming to notice. "This particular piece, has been an object of my interest for quite some time. Quite some time indeed…" Van Meer seemed to drift off into his thoughts, but quickly came back to attention, smiling another wide smile. "Enough suspense though, I am sure you are dying to know what this mysterious object is! Well, my friend, it is none other than the very blade used by the 'Scourge of Gods' himself!"

"Attila the Hun?" Drake inquired, now very suspicious. He vaguely recalled reading that the sword was already discovered and was housed in a museum.

"Yes, very good Dhr. Drake! You know your stuff."

Drake chuckled to himself and shook his head

"That always surprises people."

Van Meer leaned over his desk, drawing uncomfortably close to Drake.

"Well, you are a treasure hunter and thief, not a historian. People expect you to do the dirty work." Drake shifted uncomfortably in his chair and became aware of how thirsty he was. He cleared his throat and shifted again, trying not to stare into the shining emeralds that were locked on him.

"Do you, err, have something I could drink?" he asked, clearing his throat again. Van Meer bounded up smiling, not seeming to notice the awkwardness.

"Yes of course, how rude of me as a host! So focused on business I forget all about the pleasantries. What would you like?" Drake smiled feebly, just glad to have van Meer not as close to him.

"Just water, Mr. van Meer."

Van Meer moved a bookshelf to the side, revealing a cabinet stacked with drinks, both alcoholic and non. He rummaged through the cabinet and picked out the drinks quickly, clearly anxious to return to the conversation.

"Please, Dhr. Drake, call me Piet! We are friends here!" van Meer said as he brought over a bottle of water for Drake and a cup of scotch for himself. He stared expectantly at Drake, watching him drink his water. After Drake finished, he cleared his throat and gave another awkward smile.

"Thanks… Piet."

Van Meer continued to stare at Drake with the same expectant smile frozen on his face. "You can call me Nate." Drake said, more to the floor than his employer. Van Meer gave a satisfactory nod as he sipped his scotch and sat back down in his chair.

"So what do you say Nathan, will you take the job?"

"Sorry Piet, but isn't the blade of Attila already recovered?"

Van Meer's smile faltered for a moment, and he scowled. "Yes, yes it is. However, the sword is currently misrepresented as the 'Saber of Charlemagne' at the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna. But Vincent can tell you more about that." He said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Vincent?"

"Yes, Vincent. He is one of the members of the team I have assembled for this job. My assistant, Jozeph, is quite knowledgeable, but we needed Vincent's archaeological background to help track the sword. We have an archaeologist, a military man, and a professional such as yourself who specializes in break-ins. It is the latter whom recommended you to me, as a matter of fact."

Drake shook his head. "I don't like straight robberies, Piet. It doesn't seem right. Recovery is one thing. Stealing is another." Van Meer stared at Drake for a moment, and then stood quickly, suddenly impassioned.

"It is they who are the thieves, Nathan!" He yelled, slamming his fist onto the table. "Don't you see it? They have stolen this sword's true story, claiming that it belongs to Charlemagne. It is blasphemous! We are not stealing it from the museum out of greed, but out of justice!" He sat down again, fighting to control his breathing. A strand of hair had fallen out of his ponytail and now dangled before his eyes. He brushed it out of the way impatiently and took another sip of scotch.

"I see you do not share my passion in this concern. But you do love money, and I can guarantee that you will be paid very, very well. I am willing to agree upon a price today, if you would like. But first, allow Jozeph to take you to Austria, and you can meet the other members of the team."

Drake thought hard for a moment. Van Meer was right about two things. He didn't care that the museum had screwed up the sword's background. But he also needed the money. Bad. He looked up at van Meer, who was watching him with his shining eyes. Drake was still uneasy, but a museum in Austria was much better than the middle of a godforsaken jungle. It wouldn't be that bad, and it was all expenses paid for. He smiled and nodded.

"Okay. I'll do it."

He and van Meer stood up and shook hands, van Meer a little bit too enthusiastically. "Thank you, Nathan. This means so much to me." Drake nodded and chuckled softly as van Meer led him to the door.

"After all, what could possibly go wrong?"

* * *

><p>Within the hour, Drake was en route to Austria, flying aboard van Meer's private jet plane. Also in the plane were two gentlemen by the names of Jozeph Kroonen and Vincent Fawkes. Kroonen was van Meer's personal research assistant and coworker. He was a tall Dutchman, although not as tall as van Meer and much more built. He had dark-brunette buzz cut hair, a perfectly clean shaven face, and a silent aura of danger. Drake took this silence as a gift; it was a pleasant relief after van Meer's "in your face and now were friends" technique. Drake had managed to pull some history from the man though, and found Kroonen's life to be much more exciting than his employer's privileged one.<p>

Kroonen had initially been a member of the Dutch military, in training for special forces. He had been discharged, however, and instead pursued an education in his childhood passion: history. It was while working on a project 20 years ago that he first met van Meer, whose weapons collection had already started but was moving slowly. Van Meer needed someone who knew more about the past, and saw potential in Kroonen. They had been working together ever since, Kroonen using his research talent to find any weapon van Meer desired for his collection.

Vincent Fawkes was the other man in the plane, and while Kroonen was in the cockpit, Vincent was in the back with Drake. He was a young man, a few years younger than Drake. He was slender and fit, and had a general air of being carefree. Even his short black hair managed to remain sufficiently messy. At first, Drake had been unsure of Vincent. They had a brief introduction, during which he had been cordial. Once they were on the plane however, Vincent had sat on the opposite side of the plane from Drake and immediately put on his iPod. The young man then proceeded to do nothing but stare out the window while tapping his foot to the beat of whatever song he was listening to, sometimes mouthing the words as well. Overall, it was a very silent plane ride, something which Drake appreciated. It gave him the opportunity to just sit and think, something which he seemed to never have time for anymore.

The flight only lasted a little bit over two hours, and when they landed in Vienna the three men hopped into a van that Kroonen drove to the hotel which would serve as their base of operations. In the passenger seat was a dark skinned African man in military fatigues and khakis, a pistol holstered at his waist and an AK-47 leaning against his door. Drake eyed the soldier cautiously, but he seemed to be just another crony of van Meer's, sent to pick them up. As soon as the car started rolling, Vincent turned to Drake and smiled sheepishly.

"Hey, sorry about being so quiet on the plane. I love flying, but prefer to do it without distractions. I feel like lately I've had no time to just sit and think, y'know what I mean?" Drake couldn't help laughing audibly.

"You have no idea."

Vincent laughed and Drake found himself liking the young man. He was just as carefree and relaxed as his appearance suggested. He was someone who did not stress out or take the world for granted, and Drake admired that greatly.

"So how did you get sucked into this mess?" he asked Drake, leaning against the back of the van and folding his arms. There were no seats in the back of the van and they both sat on the floor amidst a clutter of objects.

"Apparently one of the other guys we are working with recommended me. Have you met them yet?"

"No, not yet. But I can understand Piet's eagerness to meet you. After all, you have quite the reputation, Nate."

Drake laughed and shrugged it off. It was kind of a compliment, he supposed. He was beginning to feel more comfortable and at ease.

"So what about you? How did you get involved in Piet van Meer's little project?"

Vincent shrugged and smiled while shooting a glance at Kroonen in the driver's seat, who had remained silent throughout the drive.

"I guess van Meer needed some extra help with tracking down this sword, and knew I would do it for a price. I may be an archaeologist, but unlike most archaeologists, I actually enjoy having money." He smiled again, a crooked boyish smile that made everything seem like a joke to him. "The odd jobs here and there help to pay the bills. I'm sure you know what I mean. We're not criminals or thieves. We're just making a living the best we can." Drake nodded in agreement, but before he could say anything else the car shuddered to a halt and Kroonen spoke for the first time since they got off the plane.

"We are here." Not much, but it was something.

Drake and Vincent looked at each other, smiled, and jumped out the truck. They were standing in front of "The Hotel Admiral", a nice looking hotel which was situated only a few blocks from the museum. This was where they would meet the other two members of their team and prepare for the job.

Kroonen led Drake and Vincent directly to their room, opened the door, and ushered them in without a word. It was a suite style room, with a central area and several smaller rooms off to the side. Sitting on a couch in the main room was a large African man, although large was an understatement. This man was a giant. He was at least as tall as van Meer, and four times as wide. His biceps were about the size of Drake's head, and as the man stood up, Drake felt intimidation shoot through him. Kroonen stood between them and made the introductions.

"Nathan Drake, Vincent Fawkes, this is Mason Ambessa. He is from South Africa and has been in our employment for a very long time. Any soldiers you see are his and are working for us as well. They are under orders to listen to you, so if you need anything, tell them."

A hand almost twice the size of Drake's was extended, and the two men shook, sharing a nod. Up close, Drake could now see that Ambessa was completely hairless; his scalp, chin, even eyebrows were entirely bald. He was also covered in scars, adding significantly to the intimidation factor. He moved to shake hands with Fawkes who let out a whistle.

"I'm sure as hell glad you're on our side Mason. I'd hate to fight you." Ambessa smiled, probably used to such comments.

Kroonen turned to look around the room and furrowed his brow in confusion. "Where the hell is-" he started, but was cut off by a voice in the other room.

"Relax Jozeph, I'm coming. Just catching a little shut eye before the long night." Drake perked up, recognizing the voice immediately. He turned sharply, and sure enough, Harry Flynn sauntered into the room.

"Hello mate, long time no see." Drake laughed and embraced his old friend.

"Harry Flynn, you son of a bitch! Are you the bastard who called me out here?"

"That's right. Knowing you, you need the cash. Besides, you're better at this than anyone else I know."

Drake laughed and leaned in closer. "An expert at breaking in? A little presumptuous, don't you think, Harry?"

"Got to make a name for myself somehow, mate." Flynn whispered back with a subtle wink. The two men laughed and clapped each other on the shoulders. Drake shook his head in amused disbelief, then turned to introduce Vincent.

"Harry Flynn, this is Vincent Fawkes. He's the archaeologist working with us."

"The brains behind the operations! Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Vincent said, shaking Flynn's hand. "So how did you two meet? I didn't realize I'd be a third wheel."

"Oh, Harry and I go way back." Drake said, laying his arm around Flynn's shoulders. "We've done a hell of a lot of jobs together, and he always manages to land me in trouble."

"Me?" Flynn said, sounding comically incredulous. "Nate, you're the one who always finds the bastards that want to kill us."

The three men laughed full-heartedly, but were cut off by Kroonen.

"Enough banter, gentlemen. I'm glad you are all so well acquainted, but we have a schedule. Everybody please sit down, and we'll discuss what will happen this evening."

They all sat in the chairs around the room and some more of Ambessa's soldiers came in from the side rooms to join them. Flynn immediately spoke up.

"Alright, before we get into what we're doing, I'd like to know what it is we're stealing. Nobody has told me what the bloody hell this sword is."

Kroonen gestured to Vincent, who nodded and stood up, suddenly pumped with a new energy Drake hadn't seen yet. He realized just how much Vincent loved archaeology and his job.

"Okay, so what we are stealing tonight is the Saber of Charlemagne, which is the name that the Sword of Attila has been falsely given at the Kunsthistorisches Museum. I'm sure you are all aware of who Attila the Hun is, 'Scourge of Gods' as he has come to be known. But his sword's history is less well known. It is first mentioned by the historian Priscus, who tells the story of how the blade came into Attila's possession." Fawkes pulled out his notebook and flipped open to a page near the middle. "Here is what Priscus wrote:

'_When a certain shepherd beheld one heifer of his flock limping and could find no cause for this wound__,__ he anxiously followed the trail of blood and at length came to a sword it had unwittingly trampled while nibbling the grass__.__ He dug it up and took it straight to Attila__.'_

Now, when Attila received this sword, in about 445 A.D. he believed it was sent by the gods. In fact, it is referred to as 'az Isten kardja', or 'the sword of gods'. According to Priscus, this blade was what contributed to Attila's military greatness and success."

"So how exactly did it end up in Vienna?" Drake interrupted. Vincent smiled and flipped to the next page of his notebook.

"I was getting to that. The reason as to why the sword ended up in Austria under Charlemagne's name is a bit more complex. The sword disappeared from records after Attila's death in 453 A.D. and did not resurface until the 11th century. It was reported by Lambert of Hersfeld as being the sabre upon which Leopold de Mersburg impaled himself after falling off his horse. I tracked the sword's history as far back as I could and found that the sword had been under the possession of King Salomen of Hungary. Salomen's queen-mother gave the sword as a gift to Otho, duke of Bavaria. It somehow came into the possession of a man named Dedus, who gave it to King Henry IV, Holy Roman Emperor. Henry was partial to young Leopold, who was the man that killed Otho, and gave him the sword as a gift. The sword's final resting place was in Aachen, a favorite location of Charlemagne and possibly his city of birth. Because of its location and expensive design, people assumed that the sword belonged to Charlemagne. It was kept at a museum in Aachen, until 1794 when it was moved to the Imperial Regalia section of the Kunsthistorisches Museum's Schatzkammer collection, along with St. Stephen's purse and the Imperial Bible."

Everybody was silent for a while, absorbing the information they had just been given. Drake thought for a moment then spoke to the room in general.

"So, are we sure this is the right sword? The story is pretty confusing, and I know Charlemagne has another famous sword as well."

Vincent shot a glance in Kroonen's direction, and it caught Drake a little bit off guard.

_Was that worry__?__ Or fear__?__ Was there more on the line for Vincent than just money__?_

But Vincent had already returned his attention to Drake and was smiling. "No, no I am positive that this is the sword of Attila. Charlemagne does have another famous sword, Joyeuse, but it is kept at the Louvre." He gave another look in Kroonen's direction. "Yes, this is the sword that belonged to Attila."

Once the silence settled in again, Ambessa stood up and cleared his throat. His voice had a thick African accent, but was deep and commanding.

"Alright, now that we know what it is we are after, let's go over the plans." He pulled out blueprints of the Kunsthistorisches Museum along with a map of the city and everybody gathered around closer. "Drake, Flynn, and I will be escorted by the van to the museum's Schatzkammer, or treasury building, here. Because this building has some of the greatest secular and ecclesial treasures of the Hungarian Empire, security will be difficult. However, alarms on certain doors are shut off during the shift change at 10:00 pm. There will be a 90 second window, and we will break in then. The item is under the name of Sӓbel Karl des Groβen, number 148. We retrieve the saber and go back to the van, which will take us through Kierlinger Forst and to the Fliegerhorst Brumowski airfield where Jozeph and Vincent will be waiting for us. Clear?"

Drake and Flynn both nodded. Things were getting serious now. If they were going in at 10, they only had two hours. Vincent seemed a little bit put off by his lack of participation, but clearly understood. Kroonen looked around the room, locking eyes with each individual.

"If you need food or rest, do it now and quickly. We need you to be entirely ready for when we depart. You are all being paid a great deal of money to not make a single mistake. I hope that we are getting what we pay for." With that he turned and walked out of the room.

"Not much of a charmer, that one." Vincent whispered to Drake, smirking. Drake searched the young man's face for any sign of the fear he had noted before, but none was visible. Drake simply nodded and settled back in his chair.

Vincent went to go sleep, Ambessa and his men soon dispersed, and Flynn left to grab some food. Drake sat in silence, his mind wandering back to the last thing he had said to van Meer in his office.

_What could possibly go wrong__?_

_**Author's notes: Okay, so there you go, chapter 1! I hope you enjoyed the chapter as well as my OC and please leave lots of reviews! The story is just getting started, but first a few notes. First, sorry again about the length, like I said the chapters were meant to be a novel and are therefore quite wordy. And just an FYI: all of the historical facts, data, and quotes are accurate. Any locations that I discuss are also real (All the research was a real pain.) Lastly, I will include throughout the story many words or phrases in Dutch and Afrikaans. These are online translated, so if you have an improved and accurate translation please let me know. Thank you all so much, and get ready for the heist!**_

_**P.S. Just for context reasons, this is after UC and right before UC2**_


	3. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

At exactly 9:55 pm, Ambessa's armored van rolled through the museum's main driveway. The museum was huge and consisted of many different buildings, each one a beautiful commemoration to the Habsburg Empire. Drake wished he were here to see the museum for fun, to explore it's halls as a tourist, to admire each and every piece of history that lied within. But instead, he was here to rob the place.

They passed the two main museums and the large central fountain, went under an original entryway from the palace, past several statues of war heroes riding their horses, and parked in front of the Schatzkammer building. The blue-green copper domes of the Hofburg Palace rose high above the parking lot, but the three men had their eyes focused only on their ground-level surroundings. They were in the middle of a plaza which was the center of several museums, one being the Schatzkammer. For the next two minutes, the plaza would be empty. Drake did notice several dilapidated cars along the side of the parking lot, looking as if they had not been driven in years, but decided there was nothing really strange about that at all. They could belong to the guards, who were just arriving; and, to be fair, they weren't exactly paid the best. The guard shift, along with an inside man having cut the connection to security cameras, gave Drake, Flynn, and Ambessa one very brief window of opportunity.

As they hopped out of the van, the three figures glided like shadows through the night. Dressed in all black, the men were armed with a silenced pistol and flashlight each; Ambessa also carried a pack with rope, a GPS device, and a lock-pick. They soon reached a small metal door set on the side of the building. Amidst all of the grandeur of the palace, it seemed bizarre to have such an ordinary door placed there.

"This is one of the security doors. It's the entrance that has the least amount of traffic during the shift change. It's our best way in right now, but there will be men on the other side. So move fast." The large man whispered to Flynn and Drake.

Ambessa proceeded to pull out his gun, but Drake put a hand on the man's arm, signaling him to not use the gun. He didn't want to kill anyone if they didn't need to. Ambessa shrugged and holstered the gun, then looked down to his watch. He gave a five second countdown with his fingers, after which the three men burst through the door at the same time, catching the guards by surprise. Despite there being several guards, a quick fistfight rendered them unconscious, and Ambessa led the way into the museum halls.

"When they recover they will sound the alarm. We should have killed them." He muttered to Drake.

"Don't worry, we will be long gone by the time they wake up. The less we have to kill, the better."

Ambessa reached over and grabbed Drake by the shirt, pulling him close. "We will not take any chances. I listened to you because your reputation precedes you. But if something goes wrong, and you are to blame, I will not hesitate to leave you behind." He hissed angrily into Drake's face.

Drake returned the stare, but before he could come up with a sarcastic response, as per norm, Flynn cut them off from across the room.

"Ladies, stop bickering and keep moving. If this thing is on the third floor we need to move now. Or have you forgotten that there are still guards on patrol?"

Ambessa locked eyes with Drake one last time before nodding and releasing him. The three quickly moved upstairs, and as focused as Drake was on the job, he couldn't help but be distracted by the items on display around them. Imperial scepters, holy lances, the crown of the holy roman emperor, the cradle of Napoleon II, and even a supposed unicorn horn. There was also the world's largest cut emerald, which eerily reminded him of van Meer's eyes.

Everything here was worth a fortune, and van Meer could have had them steal any of it. Why this sword? To Drake, something was missing. Was he just that obsessed with collecting old weapons? He was paying a fortune to have it retrieved. It just didn't make sense.

Although, they did encounter a few guards along the way, so far the operation as a whole had gone without a hitch. The rest of the hall they were passing through was empty, and as they continued to sneak through, Drake glanced at the display case next to him, numbered 113.

_We must be getting close__._He thought to himself. Sure enough, Ambessa and Flynn were already stopped next to a display case, silently waving him over. He hurried to their side as silently as he could, and when he reached the display case his jaw dropped. He had been expecting a brutish sword of iron that was damaged from battle and stained with blood. But this saber was just as beautiful as the treasures that surrounded it. The blade was shining steel that curved majestically, patterns of gold imprints twisting along the length of the blade. The hilt was made of pure gold, with three bands around it that had been decorated with precious stones. There was no way this blade had ever seen battle, given that it showed no sign of wear. But Ambessa was nodding as he compared it to a picture Kroonen had given him. Drake still thought there was some sort of mistake, but didn't really care. If this was what van Meer wanted, then okay. If not, at least it was still a nice sword for his collection.

"Damn it!" Flynn whispered harshly as he inspected the case and its alarm system. "Ambessa, there's no way were getting through this even with a lock-pick. The alarm will go off if we so much as touch the glass. Hell, it might go off if we step closer to it."

Ambessa seemed to think for a moment, considering his options. Before he could speak, however, an alarm started blaring through the museum, nearly giving Drake a heart attack. He heard some shouting over the loudspeaker, but he didn't pay any attention. He knew what they were saying without listening.

"Oh shit…" he muttered, pulling out his gun. Now they would need to kill the guards. At least there was only one door in and out, so they would only have to cover one entrance and not worry about being flanked. Ambessa turned to him, fury burning in his eyes.

"So much for being long gone before they wake up." He said as he stared at Drake. The words may have seemed mocking, but Ambessa wasn't smiling, and his tone made Drake shiver from sheer intimidation. Ambessa was not the kind of guy you wanted to piss off.

"Well then, no need for subtlety I suppose!" Flynn said cheerily before he went over to the display case and smashed it with his gun. He grabbed the saber and nodded to Drake and then to Ambessa, who was still staring at Drake angrily. Drake turned towards the door to head out the way they had come in, but Ambessa grabbed his shoulder. Drake felt his heart pound violently in his chest, remembering Ambessa's threat about leaving him behind.

"Do not go that way! That is the way the guards will be coming in through. We must go through the window and will have to travel by rooftop."

They turned to the nearest widow and Drake tried to hide his sigh of relief. They looked out and saw it would be a bit of a climb and jump to reach the roof of the neighboring building, which was another wing of the Hofburg Palace. Flynn started to climb out the window when a loud voice behind them barked "Stopp!"

_A word that sounds the same in German as in English_, Drake thought. _How convenient__._ He turned to the open doorway and started opening fire on the guards. There was a handful of them, all of whom immediately ducked behind cover and started shooting in return. They smashed display cases and struck some of the artifacts, making Drake wince. _They don__'__t give half a shit about the artifacts__,__ they__'__re just guards__._

He fired off a few more rounds before turning and jumping out the window. He grabbed the sill and turned to see Flynn and Ambessa already sliding down a rain gutter to his right. He edged along the window sill until he was close enough to the pipe to jump onto it and start shimmying down. Ambessa and Flynn were both on the bluish-green roof of the next building, and Drake was halfway down the pipe when two guards leaned out the window and started shooting at him. He tried to shoot back, but lost his grip and started sliding down the pipe. He grabbed on again, but the force had been too much for the rusted pipe and it snapped under his weight. Drake felt himself falling back, his heart racing as he desperately clung to the pipe. It bent and clanged to a halt at a 90 degree angle, and Drake looked up to see the guards leaving the window, probably to reach the ground floor and pursue them from the parking lot. Drake tried to pull himself back up, but then the pipe snapped off entirely. He fell the last 15 feet, slamming his back hard on the roof. The fall knocked the wind out of him and he began sliding down the sleek metal roof, struggling to find a handhold before he toppled over the edge to his death.

"I gotchya, mate!" Flynn shouted, as he dove down and grabbed Drake's flailing arm, stabilizing them both on a small ledge. Flynn pulled him to safety, and Drake stood doubled over, catching his breath as Flynn laughed at him.

"I am _always_ saving your ass!"

Drake waved a dismissive hand at him, still too breathless to talk. _That really hurt_. He kept thinking over and over. He finally straightened up, and sighed as he saw Ambessa jogging along the roof, shouting orders into a walkie-talkie.

"Look who's already on the move." He panted, gesturing towards Ambessa. Flynn turned and shrugged.

"Guess we better get moving. Don't want to be left behind."

Drake shook his head and ran up the roof to catch up with Ambessa, finding himself wondering for maybe the two-hundredth time in his life how the hell he always got mixed up in this crap.

They caught up with Ambessa, who was crouched behind an air vent, tying a rope around the base of it. "Oh yeah, I'm fine, thanks for asking." Drake muttered sarcastically under his breath. Ambessa shot him a silencing look and Drake turned away, choosing not to bother with another argument. He saw that the van was now gone and a steady flow of guards were running out of the Schatzkammer building. There was about twenty of them, now being joined by guards from the building they stood on and others nearby. There had to be at least fifty guards total.

"At least we have cover up here. Odds are they won't even be able to see us." Drake whispered. What he didn't see was Ambessa standing and taking the silencer off his gun and stashing it in his pocket. Ambessa suddenly opened fire on the guards, who immediately scrambled for cover behind the dilapidated cars in the parking lot and started firing in return.

"What the hell are you doing?" Drake shouted as Ambessa crouched down again. The guards bullets cracked into the ceiling a few inches from their position, several striking the air vent. Ambessa simply smiled and pulled a small device out of his pocket. He flipped it open and pressed one of the buttons.

The ensuing explosions shook the very foundations of the building, nearly deafening Drake. He covered his ears as a horrible ringing sound caused one of the worst headaches he had ever experienced. He struggled to stay down, unable to hear whether bullets were still blazing past them. _Where the hell did that explosion come from__?_ He thought as he shook his head, trying to regain his hearing. He looked over the air vent at a large mushroom cloud and suddenly realized what had happened. He turned and looked at Flynn, whose face had also darkened with realization.

As his hearing came back, Drake heard the sounds of men screaming in agony. He stood and looked over the edge, confirming his fears. The cars that Drake had thought to belong to the guards were actually car bombs set by Ambessa. His timing had been perfectly planned out, and when he detonated the bombs it had killed or seriously wounded all of the guards in the area. Many were lying on the ground, crying out in pain, and some were even worse off as they tried to extinguish the fire on their bodies. Ambessa had a smug, successful grin on his face that made Drake feel sick. Without a word, Ambessa took the rope in hand and rappelled down the side of the roof. Flynn turned to Drake and shrugged. They may not like what had happened, but they had no choice now. They both followed Ambessa down the rope and through the window that he had broken to enter the Hofburg Palace. Ambessa was already halfway down the hall and Drake ran quickly to catch up with the large man, ready to make an argument.

"What the hell was that, Ambessa? I thought we agreed to not kill anyone?"

"We agreed on nothing, Nathan. I simply decided to play the game your way. When your way failed, I decided to do it my way. And my way has succeeded. It is as simple as that. We have nothing to discuss."

Throughout the brief conversation, Ambessa had continued to stride forward, not even looking back at Drake.

"Let it go, Nate." Flynn said, grabbing Drake's arm to stop him from confronting Ambessa. "We have the sword. We just have to bear with this guy until we return to van Meer. Then we take our cash and go home. Okay?"

Drake nodded grudgingly, not at all happy about the situation, but Ambessa had already reached the stairs and was heading down, ignoring Drake and Flynn.

* * *

><p>Thanks to Ambessa's car bombs, the guards who would normally patrol the halls were all dead, and the remaining guards were relying on local police to arrive before taking action. This allowed Ambessa, Drake, and Flynn to walk out of the Hofburg Palace unopposed, and drive off in the van without any further trouble. Once again, Ambessa's soldier was driving, Ambessa was in the passenger seat, and Drake and Flynn sat in the back. It was only a matter of time before the sound of police sirens cut through the night and Drake could see the flashing lights catching up with them. The driver was still driving slowly, and Drake felt like screaming at him to speed up. There was no chance that the police would drive past without pulling them over. And as soon as they looked inside the van they would arrest all of them, or shoot them on the spot.<p>

_Probably the latter__._ Drake thought, still watching the fast approaching sirens. Ambessa nodded at the driver, who nodded back, very clearly conveying that there was a plan here that Drake did not know about. After the fiasco at the museum, he didn't really want to know what Ambessa was hiding up his sleeve.

He looked out the window and saw that they were passing a sign pointing out the Wien Westbahnhof Station, one of the major train stations of Vienna. Drake gave Ambessa a suspicious look, but the man was focused on the road ahead of them. They reached the station, but instead of parking, they drove through the station and onto the tracks. The van skidded as it went over the edge of the platform and drifted, but it managed to stay in one piece. Drake looked out the window again and noted that the police were still pursuing them, even on the tracks. It was nearing midnight, and trains would be few, but the threat still remained. Was that Ambessa's plan? Wait for a train then dodge it in time for it to hit the police but not them? Possibly, but Drake felt like it left too many open variables for Ambessa.

They drove further, speeding up to put distance between them and the police. Soon, Drake could bear the suspense no longer.

"Mason, what the hell are you doing?"

"Have faith in me, Nathan. I told you, we are doing things my way now."

The way Ambessa said that made Drake shiver. There was no doubt in his mind any longer that many innocent people were going to die. These police were pursuing them because it was their job. Now they were going to die for it. Drake looked pleadingly at Flynn, who nodded in agreement that something had to be done.

"Mason, mate, this isn't the only option. We can lose them easy enough. Through the forest or something. We don't even need to lose them, just beat them to the plane. They don't need to die."

Ambessa chuckled and turned to look at them, his eyes cold yet smiling. He enjoyed the aspect of killing people.

"Both of you listen very carefully. In my home-country I am considered a war criminal. I killed many, many people. I had to leave so I would not be executed by the government. I came to the "developed" world and saw people living incredible lives that people in my country would die for. And yet still, people committed senseless murders or even suicide. To me, it made no sense. I tried to find justification. I could find none. And I did not find that justification until one day I heard something very interesting. The world is over-populated. We are running out of natural resources. Soon, people will be literally living on each other's backs. That's when I realized that those who commit suicide are martyrs, and those who kill others are heroes. They are saving the world by diminishing its overwhelming population." The car drove over a long bridge then skidded to a halt, spinning around 180 degrees and facing the dozen or so police cars driving over the bridge. Ice gripped Drake's heart as he realized what was about to happen. "I consider myself a hero." Ambessa said, smiling wickedly as he pushed another button on his device.

As the police cars crossed the bridge, explosives set along the underside detonated, destroying several of the police cars instantly and causing the rest to fall down and crash onto the pavement beneath them. When the smoke cleared, not a single police car remained. Drake could see the glow of fire over the edge of what remained of the bridge, and lowered his head in sadness. The soldier drove the van across the tracks and back onto the street, slowly making its way along the road as silence set in.

* * *

><p>After 20 minutes or so, Flynn had picked up the sword and started inspecting it inch by inch, most likely not out of interest but to ignore the awkward silence that had overcome the van. The drive was tense, and there was a silently unanimous decision that nobody should talk.<p>

The silence was finally broken, however, just as they were entering the Kierlinger Forst. Ambessa had leaned over to the driver to whisper to him, and Drake felt the van speed up. He peeked out the windows set on the back doors of the van and saw headlights fast approaching them. _More Police__?_ He wondered. Maybe not. They didn't have any flashing sirens on. The van sped up more, but the car behind them was still gaining. _Not car__,__ cars_. Drake realized. There were two pairs of headlights, quickly catching up to the van.

Ambessa swore under his breath, and Drake looked out the windshield. There was chasm-like darkness on either side of them, the trees creating a black hole that absorbed their headlights without revealing any of the forest to them. All he could see was the paved road before them. He also noticed that the light on the sides was growing, and realized that their two pursuers were now flanking them. The van picked up more speed, and Drake saw they were going 177 kph. That was about 110 mph. Way too fast, in his opinion.

Suddenly, the van jolted to one side, then to the other. The entire van shook and Drake and Flynn were tossed onto the walls and floor.

"Bastards are bumping us!" Flynn cried out.

"They're crazy! At this speed, if they hit us too hard they'll kill us and themselves!" Drake shouted as he toppled to the floor again. The shaking stopped and Drake held his breath, listening to the cars motors revving next to them. Then, the sound of gunshots exploded around them and bullets clanged loudly against the sides of the van, causing Drake and Flynn to drop low. Ambessa leaned out the window and shot his pistol a few times before drawing back. He reached over into the back to grab the AK-47 and saw Drake and Flynn.

"The van is armored and the windows are bullet-proof, you have nothing to worry about unless they send us over the cliff."

_Cliff__?__ They were next to a cliff__?_

Drake swore to himself and stood, helping Flynn to his feet as well. The gunshots had stopped and Ambessa fired a few rounds out the half opened window and looked back at Drake and Flynn. "They are behind us now." He informed them. Drake looked out the back window and saw that the two cars had fallen into single file behind the van, and were speeding up again. The front car rammed them hard, causing Drake to fall backwards and land hard on his ass. He tried to stand, but the van was rammed again, this time pitching him forward. He slammed into the door, which clicked and swung open.

"Oh, shit!" Drake cried out as the door swung open, him clinging to it and exposed to the night air. "Flynn, help me!" He shouted as the van was rammed again and he felt himself rattled to the bone. The van swerved slightly, and Drake clung on for dear life, forced to drop his gun to the ground. He looked at the car that was ramming them and got his first good look at their pursuers. The men wore all black Nazi-officer-style trench coat suits with a bit more gear. They looked like some secret agent Operative bad-guys from a James Bond movie. Despite the hazardous circumstances, Drake was still able to mentally label the men as "Operatives".

The Operative in the passenger seat leaned out, now taking aim with his automatic rifle. Without a weapon, Drake was defenseless, and it seemed he was an open target. Just as Drake's life began to flash before his eyes, gunshots cracked and bullets flew out from within the van, striking the windshield of the Operative's car and clipping the shooter in the arm. He retreated back into the car, which sped up and rammed the van again. The bumper struck about five inches from Drake's feet, and he got a horrifically clear look at the driver's face, which had an angry grimace on it. Flynn reached through the open door of the van and tried to grab Drake's arm, but just barely missed him. The Operative leaned out of the car again with his rifle, and Drake lunged for Flynn's arm, losing his grip on the door. Flynn caught Drake and started to pull him in just as the Operative with the automatic opened fire, bullets striking so close to Drake that one actually went through his shirt and cut his ribcage.

The door swung and slammed shut, dropping Drake on top of Flynn and causing them both to collapse to the floor. They rolled over, Flynn laughing and Drake gasping for breath. His heart was pounding harder than he had ever thought possible, and it crossed his mind that his heart might actually burst out of his chest. Was that even possible? With his luck, he would probably become the first documented case. But right now, he was alive. That was all that mattered.

Breathing heavily, he couldn't help but start laughing.

"Goddamn miracle…" He gasped between chuckles. Flynn laughed even harder and turned to him.

"I think you owe me two now." He said, and Drake nodded, still fighting for his breath. He prodded the cut on his side and clenched his teeth in pain. This day just wasn't getting any better. He started to stand, but then the van was rammed again, causing him to fall back. He swore so loudly and colorfully that even Ambessa looked back at him in surprise. Drake went over and grabbed the AK-47 from Ambessa and walked over to the back door.

"I am getting so sick of this SHIT!" He yelled, kicking open the door and aiming the AK. The Operatives in the car looked surprised, and Drake opened fire, aiming for the Operative in the passenger seat. The car started swerving, and peeled off to the left. The second car still hung back, waiting to see what would happen. The first car was now swerving right and pulling up to Ambessa's side of the van. Drake saw that the driver was now holding the automatic and assumed that the Operative in the passenger seat was dead. He shut the van door and tossed the gun to Ambessa.

"They're coming up on your side." He said, straight faced and grim.

"Don't take this the wrong way, mate, but have you ever considered anger management?" Flynn chimed from behind him. Drake couldn't hide his smile and punched Flynn on the shoulder.

"Asshole."

"See, now, that's what I mean. Why would you hit me? Because you are angry. Let it out, Nate. Don't let it get all bottled up."

Drake smiled again and shook his head. Even Ambessa let out a small, amused chuckle. The moment was ruined by gunshots, however, and Ambessa opened fire on the Operative driving up on his side. He used the bulletproof glass and door as cover, but the glass could only take so much return fire and soon shattered. Ambessa leaned up and opened fire again, and let out a small victory cheer.

"Got him! Now we need to keep an eye on- Look out!"

Mid-sentence, the car being driven by the Operative that Ambessa had killed sped ahead of them and then suddenly cut in front of them. The car clipped the van's front bumper, which normally would not have been an issue, but at 177 kilometers per hour, it was enough to send both van and car over the edge of the road. The van pitched sideways and slammed on the ground, causing Drake and Flynn to both collide hard with the side of the van. The van slid for a few feet, but then started to bounce slightly, gaining speed as they slid further down the steep hill.

The van pitched again, and was now rolling. Drake would fall hard against the side, be thrown in the air, and come crashing down again all in one second. He couldn't even tell which way was up anymore. Everybody in the van, including Ambessa and his soldier, was screaming and shouting at the top of their lungs. There was a loud crash, and the van started spinning. Drake figured the front had collided with a tree that had been strong enough to not collapse like the others and had instead spun the truck. It was now flipping and rotating at the same time, smashing to the ground every second, then being launched back in the air.

The back doors flung open as the lever smashed apart from the outside, and Flynn nearly fell out of the van and into the forest, still clutching the sword. Drake lunged out and grabbed him, pulling him back into the spiraling van. In the brief moment before the van was launched back in the air, Flynn had the courtesy to shout at Drake, "Alright, that's one!" Before Drake could say something in return, however, the van pitched again, and instead of toppling forward his body was launched upwards. Drake cracked his head on the edge of the ceiling and was immediately thrown into dark unconsciousness.

_**Author's Notes: There you go, the (hopefully) much anticipated chapter 2! I tried to really capture the action of the Uncharted games with words, but it was a bit difficult. This may have required some imagination on the reader's parts, and I'm sorry if this chapter felt sub par. Thank you so much everybody who has left reviews, they have been very helpful, so keep 'em coming! A quick question for those of you who are enjoying the story: once a week seems a bit sparse for uploads, would you all prefer if I started uploading twice a week? Or is once a week fine? Let me know, and remember to review review review! Criticism is like nourishment for an aspiring writer, so don't hold back!**_


	4. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Drake half-opened his eyes, his head throbbing and vision blurred. Fire crackled around him, and darkness ebbed in and out of his perception. He tried to look around, but his body was unresponsive. He groaned softly and looked up the cliff they had just rolled down. The Operative's car was halfway up the hill, burning. He knew that the only reason he was still alive was because the van had been armored. Right before he blacked out again, Drake caught sight of two dark figures slowly picking their way down the hill.

Consciousness slowly began to return to Drake; blurred darkness interspersed with flashing clarity caused him to flicker through the next 10 minutes. The shadowy figures on the hill were already significantly closer when he had first reawaken, and by the time he was finally seeing straight, they were close enough for Drake to identify as two more Operatives. Drake turned his head, the only motion his body was capable of. To his direct left was the majority of the van's wreckage, and lying a few feet from him was the body of the driver of their van. Drake spotted the soldier's holstered pistol and tried reaching for it, but his body screamed back at him with searing pain that caused him to black out once more.

"Meer dan hier!"

Drake fought through the darkness at the sound of voices, struggling to move. His body didn't hurt as much as before, but his head was splitting.

"Is dit het?"

The same voice. There were also the sounds of people rummaging through the rubble. Drake could now see vague shapes. _Gun__,__ I need a gun__._ He thought to himself, remembering the dead man next to him.

"Ja, dat is het zwaard. Breng het dan hier."

A different voice this time. Drake could make out two figures standing near the fire, the two Operatives that were walking down the hill earlier. Neither of them were paying attention to Drake, and he now stopped listening to them to focus all his attention on retrieving the pistol.

Drake's body still hurt, but not enough to black him out. With every movement, his mind became clearer and the general pain in his body became more specific. His back and head were in an especially great deal of pain, and he could feel the wet warmth of his own blood under his head. He tried not to focus on that and reached out, pulling the gun from its holster and dragging it towards him. He turned slowly and saw that the two Operatives had still not noticed him. One had his back turned to Drake and the second was talking to the first, but they were both distracted by what they held.

_The sword__!_

Drake tried to steady his arm as he propped himself up and lifted the gun. He pointed it directly at the back of the first man and used all his might to squeeze the trigger twice, the two gunshots sounding like thunder and causing his head to feel like somebody had whacked it with a metal pipe. But the Operative fell to the ground, dead. The second Operative stood for a second, staring at him, his mouth hanging open stupidly.

"Surprise, asshole."

Drake pulled the trigger twice more and the second Operative collapsed. Drake lay on the ground for a second; breathing heavily from the exertion needed just to shoot the gun. After catching his breath and giving his head a rest, he tried standing. He was able to get to his feet, stumbling slightly before catching himself on a piece of the van, then straightening up.

"Okay, standing works. Let's try walking."

He stumbled a few feet forward, but then his legs gave out and he collapsed. Fortunately, the sword was within his reach. So, while down on all fours, Drake managed to pull the blade away from the dead Operative and closer to himself. Drake sat there for a moment, summoning the strength to stand, when he heard a gunshot go off behind him. He froze and slowly lifted his head. In front of him stood an Operative, gun in hand, and a fresh bullet-hole between his eyes. The Operative wavered for a second before crumpling to the ground. Drake turned around to see Ambessa staggering towards him with his pistol still steaming. He walked with a bad limp, and Drake saw the blood soaking his leg glisten in the firelight. He reached Drake and extended his massive hand to help him up.

"Now you owe me one."

Drake stared at Ambessa in disbelief and took his hand, still too stunned to say anything. Ambessa lifted Drake to his feet and the two stood, surveying the damage. The hill behind them was torn to shreds, smoldering from the burning car that still sat in ruins. Around them were the remains of their van which had split, for the most part, in half. The front engine half sat in the middle of the small glade, burning brightly. Around it were clusters of metal and rubble from the other half. As Drake looked around, he felt a sinking feeling in his gut.

"Oh god, Harry!"

He staggered forward, eyes searching the area for his friend. He knew the odds were slim, but if there was any chance…

"Harry! Harry, where are you?" He spun around, desperate. "Flynn!"

"Nate! Nate, over here!"

The call had come from Drake's left, and when he limped over to the spot he saw Flynn lying on the ground, his legs covered by a heavy piece of metal from the van.

"Nate, you're alive. Good. Get your ass over here and lift this bloody thing off of me."

Drake walked over, his coordination becoming better the more he moved. He tried to lift the metal, and although it shifted slightly, he couldn't lift it off Flynn on his own.

"Mason! Come over here, I need your help." Drake shouted out.,

Ambessa walked over, all traces of his limp gone. _You have to kinda admire the guy_ Drake thought to himself. "Here, help me lift this. On three." Ambessa stood next to him and fit his hands under a lip in the metal. They nodded at each other and Drake counted "One, Two, THREE!" Drake put all his strength into lifting the metal, but with Ambessa helping it felt twice as light. The metal lifted and thudded on the ground away from them. Drake slowly hoisted Flynn up and supported his weight.

"How you doing Harry? Can you walk?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm good." Flynn said, shaking Drake's arm off of him and walking a few steps as proof. "What about you, mate? You don't look too good."

Drake nodded and felt the open gash on the back of his head which was swollen and still bleeding heavily.

"It's not too bad. Nothing one of your cute pink princess bandages won't fix."

The three stood in silence, the crackling of the fire being the only sound in the forest.

"So… What now?" Flynn asked.

"We keep going." Drake said, taking charge of the situation. "We still need to get to the Fliegerhorst Brumowski airfield." He walked around to the bodies of Operatives, collecting guns and ammunition. They would need it more than the dead Operatives would. "I'm guessing there will be more Operatives coming after us. These guys are serious, and two cars just doesn't seem like enough. So we need to make our way to the airfield to meet Kroonen and Vincent as soon as possible."

"Who were these 'Operatives' anyway?" Ambessa asked as he also went around scavenging ammunition. Drake turned to him and narrowed his eyes.

"I was hoping you could tell us. You've been working for van Meer a long time. Do you think those could have been his men?"

Ambessa paused for a moment, then shook his head. "I have known Piet on a personal level for many years. He does not have his own army and would prefer to keep it that way. He always uses mine. Besides, he would not want to steal the saber from us until he verified its authenticity himself. No, these are not Piet's men."

Drake stared at him for a few more seconds, then nodded, joining Flynn after being sure they had gotten everything they could use. "We should probably keep going through the forest. If there are more Operatives, they will be on the road."

They started walking and Flynn, who had been sitting on a piece of the van jumped up and ran to catch up with Drake and Ambessa.

"Whoa, whoa hold on mates! We're heading out now? In the dark?"

Drake turned to him, laughing. "What's wrong, buddy? Scared of the boogeyman? What could possibly happen to you in a dark Austrian forest, pursued by mysterious gun-toting Operatives while carrying a saber that belonged to Attila the Hun?"

"I'm serious, mate. It's dark as all hell out there. I can't see ten feet ahead of me."

"Well, Harry, that's what flashlights are for." Drake said, using a sarcastically patronizing tone as he showed Flynn his flashlight. "See? You press this button, light! Press it again, dark! Press it again, light again! Here, now you try."

Flynn swatted away the flashlight and scowled. Ambessa walked over and grabbed the flashlight, turning it off.

"We leave the flashlights. They will give away our location. We leave at night because the dark will cover us. I believe Nathan is right in assuming we are vastly outnumbered, and if we want to live, we need to remain hidden."

Flynn still looked unhappy, and was about to protest, but decided against it and they started walking. The group crept through the forest as silently as possible, crawling over fallen trees and feeling the ground around them more than seeing it. Ambessa checked his GPS and stated that they were approximately a mile and a half away from the airfield if they headed in a straight line. Sneaking there the way they were, it could take up to two hours. Drake turned around and gazed at the small light in the distance that was the burning van. In a few more minutes they would not be able to even see that; they would be in total darkness. His hand drifted to his pistol as if reaching for comfort at the thought of the long trek that lay before them. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p>"Bloody cold as hell, that's the real issue, I think." Flynn whispered through chattering teeth. They had walked for about thirty minutes with no confrontation when Flynn had started talking, mostly complaining. For fifteen minutes it had been a constant stream of words, and both Ambessa and Drake had been quick to tune it out.<p>

This time however, Ambessa held up a hand to stop the others and motioned to Flynn to be silent.

"Oh come on now, there's no one out here! If you hear anything it's probably a squirrel or something. C'mon mate, even those evil bastards wouldn't follow us into this bloody freezing forest just to pursue this goddamn sword. It's not even worth it to me and I'm getting paid to high heaven for it!"

"Seriously, Flynn, shut up!" Drake hissed. He hadn't heard anything, but he trusted Ambessa's senses.

"Ah, well, you know judging from the way you reacted back at the crash when you believed me dead, you think that you would come to appreciate me more." Flynn said, but fell silent afterwards. Ambessa had ignored him the entire time and stood perfectly frozen.

"There." He whispered.

"Ambessa, I don't hear anything." Drake whispered in return. The forest's eeriness began to weigh down upon them in the silence.

"Not hear." Ambessa said, pointing his finger off into the distance. "See."

Drake squinted into the direction Ambessa was pointing and after a few seconds saw what he was talking about. Very small, very far away, a light flickered between the trees. Several lights, meaning several people with flashlights. And probably guns. Ambessa turned to Drake and Flynn, crouching low as he spoke.

"So what should we do? There looks like at least half a dozen."

Drake thought for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, we will need to be stealthy, but we can take them all out. I don't have a silencer for my pistol, so I can snap a couple of necks before the others notice. As soon as the other Operatives react, you guys use your silenced guns to take them down." Flynn and Ambessa both nodded in agreement. "And remember, be quiet!"

They went off, sneaking through the trees as silently as possible, Flynn and Ambessa with their guns drawn, Drake clenching and unclenching his fists. He wished he could use his gun, the plan was admittedly risky, and bare-knuckle fighting some Operatives would not be easy. Still, it was the only option they had at the moment.

The lights became significantly brighter as they drew near, but no people could be seen or voices heard. The flashlights were industrial, and cut through the dark forest like a lighthouse shined over the sea. Finally, they were close enough to hear voices, and discern where each Operative was standing based on their flashlight position. Eight of them total, walking in a U-shape with three on each side and two in the back. Drake, Flynn, and Ambessa slowed their pace and ducked behind trees for cover. The flashlights were strong enough to pick them out from several meters away, and they still needed to weave their way behind the Operatives. As the trio moved, they caught snippets of the Operative's conversation, but the words were whispered and indiscernible. The few words Drake did catch weren't even in English.

The three men looped around; Ambessa and Flynn took up their flanking positions, and Drake stood readily behind the two Operatives who were in the back. He crept slowly at the Operatives pace, then moved slightly faster, remaining silent as he picked his way closer to them. He reached the first Operative and jumped onto his back, striking his windpipe so he could not yell. Drake wrapped his arms around the man's neck and twisted as hard as he could, snapping it. The first man crumpled to the floor, and the second turned towards Drake. Before this Operative could react to the sudden and mysterious appearance of the very man he was hunting, Drake pounced on him, sending him sprawling backwards. He heard the soft patter of the silenced guns and watched as the other six flashlights spun around and fell to the ground. Using his elbow, he applied pressure to the struggling Operative's neck, then pulled back and brought his elbow down on the Operative's larynx as hard as he could. A strange guttural sound escaped the man's mouth before his eyes rolled back and his head dropped to the side. Drake stood up and watched each flashlight turned off one by one and did the same to the two next to him. Ambessa and Flynn made their way over to Drake to make sure everything was okay.

"Who the hell are these guys? And what were they speaking, German?" Flynn asked, keeping his voice hushed.

"No." Drake responded, turning to Ambessa. "Dutch. Mason, are you sure these are not van Meer's men?"

In the dark night, Drake could see a flicker of doubt on Ambessa's face and something occurred to him. He had been treating Ambessa like a member of van Meer's inner-circle, as if he knew everything about their Dutch employer. But if they were being betrayed right now, Ambessa did not know about it and was being stabbed in the back just as much as they were. Right now, they were a team. The only other team on the playing field was that of the Operatives. He could worry about Ambessa and van Meer's loyalties later.

"No, I am positive." Ambessa said, his voice resolute. "This is not the way Piet would go about this. My theory is that it is one of his competitors. Piet has accumulated almost as many enemies as he has artifacts over the years, and many of these people would do anything to see him fail. Stealing this sword is probably a revenge act from somebody Piet and I once stole from."

Drake nodded. That explanation actually made more sense than the idea of van Meer betraying them.

"Well, let's get moving. There will be more Operatives, and we still have at least 45 minutes of travel ahead of us." Ambessa said, examining his GPS and turning around. "This way."

The three of them started walking in the direction Ambessa had directed, but after only a few minutes they heard a series of loud noises behind them. Drake turned to look and stopped.

"You have got to be kidding me…"

Ambessa and Flynn also turned and gasped. Behind them was a long line of flickering lights, stretching far to the left and right. Ambessa grabbed Drake's shoulder to turn him and pushed him to start jogging forward.

"What happened to stealth?" Flynn asked, jogging alongside them and already breathing hard. To be honest, they were all exhausted.

"Do you see that?" Drake snapped at him. "That is a line of Operatives who, if they reach us, will kill us. We cannot hide and we cannot fight. So we're running. They don't have to worry about stealth, and if you haven't noticed, those flickering lights are moving a lot faster than us."

Flynn looked back and nodded, so they resumed jogging. But without light it was difficult to navigate the forest. The brush was thick and the branches of trees grabbed and pulled at their clothing. They were tripping or rolling their ankles constantly, and for every few meters they ran, the line of Operatives behind them traveled twice as far.

Soon, the sound of the Operative's voices calling out to each other cut through the night, and Drake knew they had been spotted. Gunshots started ringing out from behind them, and while they were mostly out of range, an occasional stray bullet would strike a tree nearby them. The three men now ducked and weaved as they ran, not daring to look back. The sound of a car engine roared closer, and the pounding footsteps of the pursuing Operatives were growing louder by the second. The sound of splintering wood suggested that the Operatives were not going around the thick brush so much as through it. Ambessa ducked behind a tree and waved at Drake and Flynn to do the same. Bullets continued to fly by them as Ambessa shouted to the others.

"We are very close to the airfield now! We should spread out to make ourselves harder to hit. Just head straight and don't stop until you reach the plane!"

Drake and Flynn nodded, and the three men split up, dashing from tree to tree, ducking low and focusing less on the bullets flying by and more on the treacherous terrain that laid between them and safety. Within moments, each man was engulfed in the surrounding darkness and Drake realized that the only reason they had not been shot down was because they had taken Ambessa's advice and left the flashlights.

Just as Drake was beginning to think they might escape from the forest alive, a loud crack and whistle from behind was followed by a massive explosion to his right that threw him sideways to the ground. He slowly staggered to his feet and stared at the flaming pit just a few meters from where he stood.

"Was that an RPG?" He asked aloud, too shocked to realize nobody could hear him. "Oh crap, where did they get an RPG?" He cried out as he turned and started sprinting again. More explosions went off on either side of him, and soon the forest was riddled with craters and small fires. They didn't just have an RPG. They had several RPGs. Gunshots to his left meant that Ambessa was trying to fight back, and Drake contemplated doing the same. But he had only a few bullets, and the odds of actually hitting somebody was slim. It was best to keep moving.

"Nathan!"

Drake turned to his left and saw Ambessa sprinting towards him, hopping over logs and bushes with surprising agility as he blind-fired towards the Operatives behind them.

"Nathan, we are just a few meters away from the airfield! Let's find Harry."

Drake nodded and the men both ran diagonally towards the right, not even considering that their friend might have been shot down.

They had still not run into Flynn by the time the forest started to thin and Drake could see the perimeter fence of the Fliegerhorst Brumowski airfield. It suddenly occurred to Drake that airfield they were running to was a military airfield, and was littered with military jets and trucks. There was a small security station to access the airfield, but it was unoccupied and the barrier was lifted. A shadowy figure stood near the station, and Drake recognized the figure as Flynn's.

"There he is!" He shouted, but Ambessa had already caught sight of Flynn and was no longer paying attention to him. He was focused instead on a large Cessna plane in the center of the airfield.

"That's the plane! We need to hurry. The guards at the airfield have been paid to stay away, so as long as those bliksem behind us don't shoot us down, we are in the clear!"

They caught up with Flynn and started to jog past the guard station and the small bridge that went over the ditch that surrounded the airfield. Flynn and Ambessa were across, but as Drake began to cross he heard the whistle of an RPG and jumped aside just as the guard station exploded and the bridge collapsed. Drake struggled to his feet, crouched behind a military truck for cover as he regained his senses. Flynn was gesturing at him from across the fence, urging him to climb across the rubble as Ambessa stood nearby and started shouting orders towards the plane. Drake saw the light of a cigarette drop to the ground and the figure of a soldier clambering into the cockpit.

"I can't climb over!" Drake shouted at Flynn, who was continuing to urge him on. "It will slow me down too much, I'll be a sitting duck!" Another RPG struck the ground not far away from Drake, and Ambessa started running towards the plane while still shouting commands in Afrikaans. Drake peeked around the truck and saw the approaching Operatives, at least 30 of them. He looked up the side of the truck he was using for cover and noticed a machine gun turret mounted on the back. Drake turned to Flynn and shouted over the sound of the approaching gunfire.

"Go with Mason! I've got a plan, don't worry!"

Flynn shrugged and sprinted off towards the plane, whose motor was just beginning to come to life. Drake climbed into the truck and noted that the keys were also left inside. He pocketed them just in case and began loading ammunition into the turret clip. He squeezed through the small roof opening and didn't waste time in opening fire. The turret jarred his body and was hard to control, but a shield on its front protected him from enemy fire and allowed him to take as much time as he needed to mow down as many men as he could.

Suddenly, a loud crashing sound was heard and bright headlights burst through the trees. The Operatives military truck, a higher budget version of his own, skidded to a halt before him, and three men in full body armor and massive body-shields rose from the bed of the truck. The other Operatives took cover behind the military truck and continued to fire on Drake's truck. The three armored men repositioned themselves to face Drake, and lifted to shoulder height three RPGs.

"Oh crap…"

Drake tightened his grip and unloaded the entire belt of ammunition into the military truck, causing the armored Operatives to duck down again before they had a chance to fire their RPGs. One tried to rise up and was shot down by the turret's large bullets, and the other two stayed down. As soon as the belt was empty, Drake slid down into the driver's seat and turned the car on. He had just thought up a really bad idea.

The sound of bullets smashing against the outer shell of the truck soon filled the interior of the truck, and the force of an RPG caused the entire vehicle to shake viciously. This was dangerously risky, and Drake knew it. But hey, it was worth a shot. After all, wasn't that the whole point of really bad ideas?

Drake shifted the truck into neutral and slammed his foot on the gas. He held his breath as the rpm needle lifted well into the red zone. The truck was struck again, and parts of its armor began to tear. Drake still kept his foot down on the pedal and watched as some of the Operatives began to realize what was about to happen. Drake slammed the gear shift into drive, threw open the door, and rolled out of the car just as it launched itself full speed down the slope. He rolled on the ground and jumped up, running immediately without looking back to see if his plan had worked. He didn't really need to see though. He would hear it.

Sure enough, the screech of tires was cut short by a thundering crush as his military truck collided with the Operatives truck, hopefully causing it to crumple or roll over. But Drake didn't stop to check. He just kept running. He picked his way across the remnants of the bridge, grumbling angrily at how slowly he had to move to navigate the short yet arduous pass.

As soon as Drake reached the other end, he began sprinting again, and the sound of more gunshots rang out behind him. The Cessna with its rotor blades spinning stood stationary, waiting for him. Drake waved his arms furiously and started screaming as loud as he could.

"Go! Go now! Start the plane!"

The soldiers must have gotten the message, for the Cessna started moving towards him, gaining speed and beginning to bounce slightly as it lifted off the ground. Drake reached the plane just as it began its ascent. He swiftly dodged the blades and grabbed the foot-rail, clutching for dear life as the plane lifted higher and higher, passing the Operatives below and barely clearing the tree line of the forest. Ambessas strong arms reached down and pulled Drake into the Cessna, shutting the door after he was safely inside.

It took Drake a few minutes to catch his breath, relishing the feeling of being able to lie down and not have people shoot at him. When he finally opened his eyes, he looked around and realized that not only were Ambessa and Flynn in the Cessna, but also Vincent and Kroonen. He also noticed the various looks that he was getting from his teammates. Ambessa looked at him in general surprise, Vincent had a look of pure admiration and joy on his face, and Flynn was just laughing.

"You, mate, are the craziest and luckiest bastard I have ever met."

"Thanks." Drake chuckled in response, sitting up. Kroonen was the only one who hadn't reacted to Drake's dramatic entrance. He wasn't even looking at Drake, but seemed distracted by the skyline outside, the Blade of Attila resting securely on his lap.

_You know what__,__ screw him_. Drake thought. _I__'__m alive and got the sword__.__ Now I just need to turn it in to van Meer__,__ collect my pay__,__ and get out of this mess__._

He slid into a seat and, as his adrenaline levels dropped, Drake became aware of just how tired he was. Not to mention sore. He was very sore.

Drake was beginning to wonder if the sword was really worth all the effort he had gone through when his eyes began to slide shut. Drake tried to stay awake, but quickly gave up. He leaned his head back and slept all the way back to van Meer's Hilversum estate.

_**Author's notes: There you go, Chapter 3, the second this week! I'll try and keep up the two-a-week theme. I have the book almost done and it's all just sitting on my laptop dying to be uploaded. Hope you enjoyed this chapter this chapter as much as I loved writing it, and a big thank you to all of you who have been reviewing and following the story. The reviews help me when it comes to editing the chapters before I upload them. Keep it up! I love reading the stuff you all post and I always get pumped up when I have an email because I hope it's another review on my story! Next up are chapters 4 & 5, which are two chapters you should get very excited for. Thanks again, and happy reading.**_


	5. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Drake, Flynn, and Kroonen were standing in van Meer's office the next day, waiting to present the blade. They had been told the previous night that van Meer was asleep, and not to be woken up. They were made to spend the night, nobody being permitted to leave until van Meer was satisfied. After having slept on the plane, Drake was unable to sleep more than a few hours that night, and spent the rest of the evening lying in bed too sore to move. It had been a very long 24 hours and nothing sounded better than going back home and relaxing. The thought of early retirement crept through his head, and not for the first time.

The following day had started near noon, with a full breakfast and still no sight of their employer. Finally, at nearly five in the afternoon, Drake, Flynn, and Kroonen were ushered to van Meer's office. Ambessa was out tending to some of his army's needs, and Vincent had been asked to await Kroonen in the library for some final research related work. The three of them now lounged in the office, Drake sitting wearily in a chair, Kroonen standing diligently nearby with blade in hand, and Flynn wandering the room, examining the displays and picking up anything that caught his interest.

Van Meer walked in several minutes later, as obnoxiously buoyant as ever.

"I hear you have excellent news to deliver, my friends! The Blade of Attila has been recovered, yes?"

The question was clearly rhetorical, as van Meer bounded straight towards Kroonen and lifted the sword gently into his own hands.

"Yes, perfect. It really is beautiful." He beamed widely at Kroonen and lifted the blade between them. "Years of work, Jozeph, and we have finally achieved our goal! With the help of Nathan and Harold of course!" van Meer said while turning to Drake and Flynn.

Drake turned to Flynn and raised his eyebrows in surprise while mouthing out "Harold?" and Flynn merely shrugged.

"Jozeph, you may now go downstairs and handle your business with Vincent. I will finish with these two in a moment." Van Meer continued, never removing his eyes from the sword. Kroonen turned to leave, but before he walked out he gave Drake a sly wink. It was not a playful wink, but a menacing one, and as Kroonen left the room Drake felt a cold shiver run up his spine. Van Meer set down the blade on his desk and turned to Drake and Flynn. His ever present smile was just as wide as it was when Drake had first met him, but his eyes were even colder and more viscous.

"I hope you two gentlemen did not go through too much trouble to acquire this item for me. I heard there was a situation in the forest?"

"I guess you could call it that." Drake responded dryly. Van Meer detected the venom in Drake's voice and looked at him quizzically.

"Nathan, are you suggesting I was somehow involved with the attack in the forest? My friend, I was wishing for nothing more than your success! Why would I try to kill you?" Van Meer paced around the room as he spoke, finally coming to where he had laid down the blade. He lifted it again and unsheathed it, twirling it as he continued to pace while speaking.

"I would never kill a person in my employment. I pride myself on being a very positive and reinforcing employer. As well as generous. The situation took a turn for the worse, I confess that much. As Mason explained to you, I have a great many enemies, and it is likely that one of them had tried to stop you. So let us put this nasty business behind us. I will pay you the agreed price, and your plane home leaves tonight."

Drake couldn't hide his sigh of relief at the idea of finally returning home. Van Meer, who had been staring out the window at the sunset, turned once more to look at Drake. He chuckled softly as he spoke.

"Nathan, you sound so happy to be leaving our little gezin. You know, our family." He paused and leaned against his desk, staring at Drake.

"Well… Piet… to be honest I am glad to be done with this." Drake said shifting uncomfortably. His instincts were screaming at him to somehow get away.

"Oh Nathan, why would you be happy to no longer be in my employment?" van Meer said with a mocking frown. "Especially right after I told you I would never kill somebody who _is_ in my employment."

The mocking frown suddenly turned into a wicked, jeering grin. Van Meer pressed an intercom button on his desk and a bookcase to his side opened up to a secret passage. Three fully armed soldiers came marching in, and Drake heard two more come in from the door behind them, one covering him and one covering Flynn.

"On loan, from Mason." Van Meer said, sweeping his arms in a gesture to the soldiers in the room. He walked slowly over to Drake and Flynn, and looked each of them in the eyes.

"Now, gentlemen, you will witness the true power of this blade which you so kindly brought to me." His voice was dark and insidious, and Drake's mind raced for an escape plan as he assessed the situation. Armed guards with AK-47s, pistols, ammo belts, and grenades. There had to be something, anything, that he could use.

Van Meer turned towards Flynn and lifted the unsheathed blade. Drake panicked as it occurred to him that van Meer might decapitate Flynn on the spot. The soldier behind Flynn grabbed his arms and held them behind his back. Before Flynn could protest or struggle, the soldier struck him in the middle of his back, causing him to slump and groan in pain. Van Meer suddenly lashed out with the blade, cutting a shallow wound on Flynn's chest. The soldier released him and took several steps back as blood seeped through Flynn's shirt. Van Meer stared at Flynn expectantly, and after about a minute…

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Van Meer's face switched from anticipation to confusion and then to anger in just a few short seconds.

"No… No." He muttered softly. "No! That's impossible!"

But before van Meer could explain what was so impossible about a sword wound bleeding, Drake spun around and grabbed the soldier behind him by his vest. Knocking the gun out of the way, he pulled the man in close and unhooked one of the pins from a grenade that was strapped to the soldier's chest. He spun around and flung the soldier over the desk, where he slid across the floor and landed against the window. Meanwhile, Flynn had also used the distraction as a chance to begin grappling with the soldier behind him in a struggle for the gun.

The soldier who Drake had flung stood up, nervously trying to unstrap the grenade from his chest, but too late. The grenade exploded, shattering the window behind him and launching two of the guards out the window. The third guard fell to the floor, and Drake vaulted over the desk, running to him and swiftly kicking him under the chin, snapping his neck. Meanwhile, Flynn's fight had travelled near the window, and the soldier was trying to push Flynn out. Flynn braced his foot against the wall and pushed back, slamming the gun into the soldier's face. He wrenched the gun from the soldier's hands and used the butt to hit the back of his head. The soldier stumbled forward and Flynn used his foot to push the soldier's lower back, causing him to topple out the window.

"Have a nice trip, see you next fall!" Flynn shouted out while laughing at his own joke. He turned around and furrowed his brow in confusion. "Ah, where the bloody hell did van Meer go?" Flynn cried out. Drake looked around, realizing that during the struggle van Meer had escaped. However, the Blade of Attila lay on the ground where van Meer had been standing. Drake bent down to examine it.

"All this trouble for the sword, and now he leaves it? It doesn't make any sense…"

"Oy, mate! Leave it for another day!" Flynn called out. "He must have gone this way!"

Drake turned to see Flynn standing next to the secret passage that had been hidden behind the swinging bookshelf. Drake nodded and the two men entered the narrow, poorly lit passage which traveled at a steep downward slope.

As they rounded a turn and the passage started to flatten out, Drake and Flynn literally ran into Ambessa, whose giant frame nearly filled the entire tunnel. When Flynn realized who it was, he immediately lowered his gun.

"Mason! Listen, van Meer just tried to kill us! He's using some of your soldiers, so you really can't trust anybody!"

"I know."

Ambessa suddenly swung out, his massive fist slamming into Flynn's head and causing him to crumple. Drake back peddled, raising his hands to Ambessa.

"Mason, you don't understand. You can trust us! We're on your side!"

"Oh, believe me Nathan, you're not."

Drake stopped and his mouth hung slack as he realized that Ambessa and van Meer were working together in the betrayal. Ambessa lunged forward and Drake snapped out of his stupor quick enough to dodge the large man's lethal strike. Ambessa was strong and fast, but the tunnel limited his movement and gave Drake a slight advantage.

Ambessa swung his fist a few more times, missing Drake all but once, in which case the punch barely clipped his jaw but was still enough to knock him to the floor. Ambessa lunged again, but Drake was able to sidestep, and seeing an opportunity, smashed the butt of his rifle three times into Ambessa's temple. The man staggered back and slumped against the wall, and Drake took aim with his rifle. Before he could take the shot, however, Ambessa swung up and struck the rifle from Drake's hand. Drake dropped to the ground just as Ambessa stood up, and rifle in hand launched himself upward like a spring. His rifle connected with Ambessa's face, and Drake could hear the crunch of the man's nose break under the rifle butt. Ambessa dropped to his knees, holding his face as blood gushed out of his nose and pooled on the floor beneath him.

Drake quickly spun and decided to take advantage of the brief opportunity to escape and not take the risk of continuing the fight. He dragged a barely conscious, but still standing, Flynn with him as they wound through the passage and came tumbling out into a room neither of them recognized. Drake quickly led Flynn into a closet and leaned back to catch his breath.

"Harry, you alright?"

Flynn nodded slowly, but he didn't look alright. The side of his face was swelling and turning a dark purple color. He stood up straight and cleared his throat.

"Yeah, mate. I'm fine. What the hell was that? Is Mason on van Meer's side now?"

"He always has been." Drake said solemnly. "And I can bet my life that Kroonen is in on it too." His eyes suddenly lit up with realization. "We have to warn Vincent!"

"Are you crazy? What if he's working for van Meer too?"

"No, I don't think he is. But he did have a feeling something was wrong. I could tell. He knows something. We have to find him."

"Alright, well even if he isn't working for van Meer, he's as good as dead. He and Kroonen were down in the library, remember? If Kroonen and Vincent _are_ enemies, our boy is already dead."

Drake shook his head, unwilling to back down without being sure that Vincent was dead.

"We have to try. Let's find the library."

Drake opened the door but then immediately shut it, turning to Flynn and gesturing for him to stay silent. Through the closet door they heard Ambessa's deep voice bellowing out.

"Vind hulle en hulle doodmaak! Find and kill them!"

"Mason!"

Drake was slightly confused by the sudden appearance of the second voice, and opened the door to peak out. Kroonen was walking across the room towards Ambessa, who was still holding the walkie-talkie he had just been screaming orders into. In his other hand was a pistol.

"Ach verrek. What happened to your face?" Kroonen asked Ambessa as he strode over. Drake couldn't see Ambessa's face, but he could imagine the furious scowl covered in blood under the smashed nose. He couldn't help but smile.

"Never mind, I frankly don't care." Kroonen continued with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Just start collecting all of your men and supplies to load them into the trucks outside. We're leaving."

"What? Leaving? Like hell we are leaving!" Ambessa roared, his voice seething with hatred. "I am not leaving until I either see Drake's dead body with my own eyes, or get the chance to wring his scrawny neck myself!"

"Someone's taken a liking to you." Flynn whispered to Drake, but was quickly hushed. _Where are they leaving to__?_Drake wondered. He opened the door a little further to better hear the conversation between Kroonen and Ambessa.

"Trust me Mason, I want to see him dead just as much as you do." Kroonen muttered, grinding his teeth as he spoke "But these are Piet's orders, not mine. Already he is waiting for us in the truck, and your soldiers are beginning to load up the rest of the convoy. We got a tip from Vincent's journal as to where we might be able to pick up the trail."

"What about Flynn and Drake?"

"Leave a handful of soldiers to deal with those rats. But the rest of your men go to the front of the estate and meet us there. We want to arrive by tonight."

The two men walked away as Ambessa relayed the orders into his walkie-talkie. Drake waited a minute before opening the door further and sliding out. Flynn followed him, and in proper lighting Drake could see just how bruised his face was.

"Jesus, Harry, you look like absolute shit."

"Thank you very much, I can honestly say I have never felt better."

Drake shook his head and led the way to the main hall. The room was entirely empty, and Drake went over to the only stairs that led down.

"The library must be down here." He whispered to Flynn. Although the room was empty, he still felt that his voice was too loud. Flynn didn't even respond, simply nodding his head and leading the way.

* * *

><p>When Drake and Flynn reached the library, they were surprised to see that everything looked like it was in order. No sign of a struggle, and no sign of Vincent. It was a small, private library that was full of books concerning history and archaeology, books that didn't really seem to suit van Meer. This was most likely Kroonen's research library, and Drake found himself drawn to the antiquity of some of the books. But they weren't here to look at ancient tomes. They needed to find their friend.<p>

"Vincent!" Drake cried out, Flynn echoing his call. The pair worked their way down the library aisles, shouting out as loud as they could. They soon reached the end of the library, with still no sign of Vincent. There were two similar wooden doors at the end of one of the aisles, set facing each other on opposite sides. Drake directed Flynn to the one on the left wall and stood directly behind him. He pointed his gun at the door and nodded to Flynn, who kicked down the door and moved aside, giving Drake a chance to shoot down anyone who might be inside. But there was no one. It was an empty bathroom.

Drake and Flynn turned to the second door with a strong sense of foreboding. They set up for the same procedure, and when Flynn knocked down the door Drake saw that this room was also empty. The room was what appeared to be a bedroom and study, with a small bed in the corner and a stuffed bookcase to the side. In the middle was an oak desk that had been knocked over, its contents strewn across the floor. A soft groan was heard from the other side of the desk.

"Vincent?"

Drake walked carefully into the room and looked behind the desk.

"Oh shit. Harry, come over here."

Flynn rushed over and the two men looked down at Vincent, who was lying in a pool of his own blood that gushed from a bullet wound in his side, just a few inches from his heart. The young man's skin was pale, and if it hadn't been for the very shallow movement of his chest, Drake would have believed him dead.

"Flynn, help me lift him."

Drake bent down to lift up Vincent's shoulders in order to hold him upright. The young man groaned again, but hardly moved, his body limp. Flynn helped lift Vincent to his feet, and then Drake braced Vincent against his shoulder, making himself a crutch for the dying man.

"C'mon buddy, we're getting you out of here." Drake said, his voice strained from needing to support Vincent's full weight. "Flynn, cover me, ok?"

Flynn nodded and became serious. A friend's life was now on the line and it was no time for jokes. He moved into the library, made sure nobody had sneaked in on them, and then took position next to the main library door they had come in through.

"Alright, you're clear." He called back to Drake, standing on guard.

Drake had not really been focusing on Flynn's precautions, but had instead been focusing on moving Vincent without hurting him too much. He worked his way slowly through the library and finally reached Flynn.

"Harry, there's no way we can walk out the front door with him, he's too hurt and I can't move fast enough. You can't cover us if it's you against five guys."

"Side door…" Vincent groaned. Drake looked at Vincent in surprise, unsure if he had heard correctly.

"What did he say?" Flynn asked, also unable to believe that a man so near death could not only listen, but talk coherently.

"There's a side door." Vincent continued feebly, his voice wavering and soft. "It goes through the valet's room. It takes you out near the barn."

"Alright, hold on buddy, we'll get you there." Drake said, tightening his grip around Vincent's side. Flynn nodded and went through the door and up the stairs. Drake started slowly progressing, but walking up the stairs was near impossible.

"Phew. Vincent, buddy, you need to start working out or something and drop some pounds, you know what I mean?"

Vincent did not respond and Drake tried to pick up his pace, worrying that he might be losing his new friend.

Drake came to the top of the staircase just in time to see Flynn kill two patrolling soldiers.

"Okay, you're all clear- oh, hey you're already up here." Flynn said when he realized that Drake and Vincent had entered the room. Drake looked around and took note of the only door that could possibly be considered a side door; it was small and ordinary, snuggled away in the back corner of the main room.

"That way." He said, pointing out the door, and once again Flynn took the lead. When they entered the valet's room, Drake was relieved to find that it was empty. It was very small and had similar furnishings as the room where they had found Vincent. However, there was also a small cabinet with several hooks, and hanging from each hook was a set of keys. Drake set Vincent down on the bed and took a moment to grab the keys to his car. He lifted Vincent again as Flynn opened the door on the other side of the room that led outside. Luck was again on their side, as the trio crept their way to the barn without being spotted and avoiding all confrontation.

"Almost there, Vincent. We'll get you to a hospital. Just hold on." Drake muttered. He knew Vincent could no longer hear him, but the words were more to reassure himself.

"Nate, look at that." Flynn whispered, and Drake glanced up. In the middle of the estate grounds were dozens of vans and trucks pulling into a single file line. The convoy was there for only a few more seconds, and once they were gone Flynn and Drake entered the barn and located the rental car.

"Where do you think they're going?" Flynn asked as they pulled out of the barn. "They have an entire army with them."

"I don't know." Drake confessed, his voice distant. "But let's worry about getting Vincent to a hospital first." And with that they left behind the van Meer estate and headed in the opposite direction of the convoy, towards the center of Hilversum.

* * *

><p>After a couple of days at the public hospital, as well as some interrogation by police officers, Vincent was finally granted leave to return home. At the time, home was a small room in shabby hotel in Hilversum that Drake had purchased so he could stay near Vincent and check up on him daily. The few days did give Drake and Flynn a chance to explore the city a bit more, and one of the days had included a trip to Amsterdam. But it was difficult to enjoy the brief respite, the events of the past few days hung over them like an animal that preyed on their happiness.<p>

When Vincent was able to leave the hospital, he showed signs of full recovery, and almost never revealed the pain of his injury. A few hours after they had settled back into the small hotel room, Flynn and Drake sat around Vincent and listened as he explained what had happened to him. He started by explaining how, although he had been hired by van Meer, he had not supported the man's actions and only remained in his employment for fear of his life. He also informed them that there was much more to van Meer's obsession with this particular sword than it being a fanatic collector's prize.

"But that's what I don't understand." Drake interjected as Vincent explained the situation. "Van Meer was willing to kill us for that sword, and yet he left it behind. Why?"

Vincent nodded and smiled his lopsided smile, already two steps ahead of Drake.

"That's a very good point, and the answer is very simple. This was not the sword van Meer was after. He was looking for another sword, but believed this to be the one he wanted. Hell, up until the day before the heist, even I believed it was the sword he wanted. But in my studies I came across some information that exposed van Meer's true plan to me."

"And that's why you were so scared?" Drake asked, and Vincent nodded his head.

"I was afraid that if they knew I had caught on they would kill me on the spot. I didn't know they would try to kill me anyway. After the explosion upstairs, Kroonen shot me and I fell over my desk. Van Meer ran in, shouted something in Dutch, and Kroonen grabbed my journal. They both left and the next thing I know, your two beautiful faces were hovering above me."

"Oh yeah, and your welcome for that." Flynn chimed in, leaning back in his chair, very uninterested by the whole conversation. "We know we were betrayed, sure. But drop the suspense, mate, what was van Meer _really_ after?"

Vincent shook his head and stood up to start pacing the room. "I'd love to tell you guys, and I promise I will. But first I need to go back to New York and meet with my sister. She's probably worried about me since I told her I would be back by now, and being bedridden in the hospital made it difficult to contact her. So I need to let her know that I'm relatively okay. Also, now that my journal is gone I will need her help picking up the trail. We may be able to find out where it is that van Meer has gone."

"Whoa, whoa, hold on there Vincent. You want to pursue the bastards who shot you in the gut, stole your life's work, and left you for dead?" Flynn interrupted, staring incredulously at Vincent who simply nodded his head.

"You have to admit, it's pretty stupid." Drake said, giving Vincent a more understanding look. He could sympathize with Vincent's pain.

"Trust me guys, you'll want to tag along once I tell you what's really going on here. But not until I see my sister. So what do you think? Do you want to come with me?"

Flynn threw up his hands in exasperation and fell back onto the bed.

"Well, at this point I really don't give a shit." He raised his head to look at Drake and lifted an eyebrow. "Nate?"

Drake thought for a moment then nodded his head. "Sure, I guess there's no harm in going to New York. We can consider our options there. But I want somebody to meet us there, if that's ok." Vincent nodded his head and Drake pulled out his cell phone. Flynn immediately jumped up and walked towards Drake, pointing an admonishing finger at him.

"Oh no. No, no, no! Nate don't you dare call that walking liability. We don't want him and we sure as hell don't need him." Flynn said as he tried to snatch the cell phone away from Drake, who dodged and maneuvered as the call went through. Drake raised a finger to his mouth, shushing Flynn.

"That man's health care expired when Attila did, and if he gets hurt we're going to have to pay the whole thing! And you know he's going to get hurt, his bones have got to be like dust by now! Nate don't you dare-"

Drake cut him off as the person on the other line answered their phone.

"_Hello__?"_

"Hey, Sully! It's Nate."

"_Goddamn it kid__,__ do you have any idea what time it is__?__ Where the hell are you anyway__?"_

"Holland. Listen, are you busy tomorrow? I have got one hell of a story to tell you."

_**Author's Notes: Ta-Da! Chapter 4! Van Meer's betrayal, a surprise? Probably not. But hey, is it really an Uncharted story if somebody doesn't get stabbed in the back? Next chapter: Enter Victor Sullivan, and find out exactly where this plot is going. Keep up the reviews everybody, they are very encouraging and motivate me to keep writing and posting because I know people are interested. Thank you all for that interest you've shown, and keep reading/posting!**_


	6. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

The next day for Drake was far more physically mellow, but just as interesting. He, Flynn, and Sully were waiting in the Fawkes's modest apartment living room in New York City, waiting for Vincent to finish speaking with his sister. Vincent had been talking to his sister in a different room the entire time, and Drake had not even had the opportunity to meet her yet. When they had arrived at the apartment a few hours earlier, Vincent had immediately ushered Drake and Flynn into the living room, then disappeared to meet with his sister. After about 15 minutes, Sully arrived and Drake let him into the apartment.

"Nate, I have to say I am very disappointed." Sully grumbled after the situation had been explained to him. "When you call me saying you are in Holland and have a great story to tell me, I'm thinking Amsterdam and beautiful women, not some hick Dutch town with this ugly son of a bitch." He said, jerking his thumb in Flynn's direction.

"Careful, Victor." Flynn said with a scowl. "Wouldn't want you to get too excited and drop dead on the spot."

Sully returned the scowl and spoke to Flynn through clenched teeth.

"Careful, Harry. Wouldn't want you to get too excited and mess up your hair."

The two men stared at each other and Drake went over to intervene before a fight started in the living room. He stood between Flynn and Sully and put a hand on each of their shoulders.

"Ladies, ladies, can we please try to keep this civil?"

Sully turned to look at Drake, but his gaze seemed to go through him. He whistled lowly as he looked at whatever was behind Drake.

"Now _that__'__s_ a lady."

Drake and Flynn both turned around and saw a woman in corduroy pants with a tucked in dress shirt walk into the room. It was their first look at Vincent Fawkes' sister. She was taller than Vincent, but looked incredibly like him. She had the same type of hair, except hers was long and wavy. She had the same tanned skin tone, face, and even posture. They could have passed for twins were it not for her blue eyes. Yet something indescribable made her radiant and different from Vincent in that even though they looked alike, she emanated feminine beauty. Overall, beautiful was the perfect word to describe her.

Sully reacted immediately and approached her, extending his hand. She smiled warmly and shook it.

"Name's Victor Sullivan." Sully said, speaking in the low and sensual voice he always used when speaking to beautiful women. "But my friends call me Sully."

"Nice to meet you, Sully. I'm Miranda Fawkes, Vincent's sister." Miranda responded sweetly.

"Believe me, the pleasure's all mine." Sully said as he kissed her hand.

"I swear, the libido of a teenager." Drake said as he chuckled and shook his head. Flynn walked over to introduce himself to Miranda just as Vincent walked in, looking a little bit flustered after the talk with his sister. Drake figured she had been more than a little bit unhappy with him. Drake turned Sully to face Vincent, and waved the latter over.

"Sully, this is Vincent Fawkes, the archaeologist I told you about. Vincent, this is my long-time friend Victor Sullivan."

The two shook hands cordially and exchanged polite greetings. Drake smirked as he leaned towards Vincent, whispering loud enough for Sully to still hear.

"Between you and me Vincent, I strongly suggest keeping him away from your sister."

Sully scowled angrily at Drake, but Vincent started laughing so hard he winced in pain, clutching at his side wound.

"Back in college people said the same thing about me." Vincent explained after he had recovered. "Sully, I feel like you and I will be great friends."

"That depends." Sully said, using a gruff and serious voice despite the sparkle of laughter in his eyes. "Can I smoke in here?"

"Be my guest."

"Good." Sully responded, nodding as he pulled out a cigar. He clenched it between his teeth and lit it, puffing out a few clouds of smoke above his head. "That means we will be very good friends."

Sully and Vincent sat down to start talking, and Drake was about to join them when Miranda's voice rang out behind him.

"So, Nathan Drake. We meet at last." Drake turned to look at Miranda, who was smiling at him playfully. "You know, archaeologists as a rule are supposed to despise you."

"Well, are you an archaeologist?"

"Not in the slightest."

Miranda continued to smile confidently and Drake returned the smile as they shook hands. Vincent declared that he was fetching drinks and hurried out of the room. As soon as the door closed, Miranda turned to face Drake and Flynn.

"Nathan, Harry, I just wanted to take this chance to thank you. Vincent and I are very close, and I love him very much. He hates to admit weakness, but I am able to acknowledge the fact that without you two my brother would be dead. So thank you. I owe you Vincent's life as well as my happiness."

Drake lowered his head and muttered a low "You're welcome". He would never show it to anyone, especially Flynn, but dragging Vincent's dying body around had been a traumatizing experience.

"Alright everybody, take a seat. We have quite a bit to talk about." Vincent chimed as he walked into the room, handing out drinks as everybody in the room took seats around him.

"So, a quick summary for Miranda and Sully." Vincent said, starting into his speech. "When van Meer hired me, he told me the object I was retrieving for him was the Blade of Attila. Thanks to Kroonen's research, he was already aware that the blade was housed at Vienna's Kunsthistorisches Museum under Charlemagne's name, but he wanted some extra confirmation. So my job was to basically outline the entire history of the blade and be sure that this was the right one. I had considered it peculiar at the time that so much effort was being given for authenticity when either blade would be considered a prize, but a job was a job so I ignored my instincts. I would come to pay for that later." Vincent's voice seemed to drift away and his eyes clouded over. Miranda laid a hand on his knee, bringing him back to reality. Drake recognized the look, however. In his mind, Vincent blamed himself for everything that had happened and might happen. Nonetheless, he continued cheerfully.

"So, I'm researching the blade and learning about how it traveled from the fields of Mongolia to the city of Aachen, but I still found no reason why the blade was so significant. I also began to doubt that it was Attila's blade at all."

"I know what you mean, I had the same feeling." Drake cut in. "It was way too clean and regal looking. The blade we had definitely never saw battle."

"Kid, why don't you just shut up and let the man finish his story." Sully said jabbing his finger at Drake.

"Jesus, Sully, the man lets you smoke a cigar in his house and suddenly he's your best friend?"

"Will both of you shut it?" This time it was Flynn interrupting them. "Really, you're like a couple of school children."

"You're not really one to talk…" Drake muttered, but finally the room fell silent and Vincent continued.

"Well, Nathan is actually spot on. While the dates and facts cleared, it just didn't make sense that the blade looked the way it did. I decided I had to go back to the very beginning. So one day, as I was researching more about the blades initial discovery as it was described by Priscus, I learned something that changed everything. I left this part out back at the hotel, you are the first people who I am telling about this, but Priscus refers to the blade as 'the Sword of Mars'."

"That makes no sense." Miranda interrupted, sitting forward in her chair. "Mars is a Roman god. Sure, Priscus was Roman, but he wouldn't use the name of a Roman god to recount a story based in Hun mythology." She continued, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"My thoughts exactly." Vincent confirmed, nodding at his sister.

"Hold on a second!" Drake said, suddenly sitting bolt upright. "How come when she interrupts, everybody nods their head, but when I interrupt I get dirty looks?"

"Nate, seriously, for your own good I strongly recommend that you shut up." Flynn said threateningly. Vincent and Miranda started laughing as Drake pouted and flopped back in his chair. Vincent waited for silence again, and then continued.

"Anyways, yes I wondered the same thing. By this point, I realized that van Meer was a dangerous man and that he had to be planning something huge. How could he not? All the secrecy and perfectionism, not to mention the massive army, all pointed to this sword being more than just another piece of his collection. So I tried to cross check the phrase 'Sword of Mars' to see if it had been referenced before. Nothing showed up online, but thanks to Kroonen's extensive research library, I found mention of it in an anonymous document. But it wasn't in reference to the blade of Attila, it was in reference to another blade. A blade better known as 'Crocea Mors'. The yellow death."

Miranda let out an audible gasp, but nobody else in the room reacted. To Drake, Flynn, and Sully, the name meant nothing.

"Err, sorry guys but we have no idea what you're talking about." Drake said, shifting in his seat. He usually knew all the answers, and he didn't like being the clueless one.

"Yes, please do enlighten us." Flynn said, leaning forward in his chair eagerly. "But speak loud and slow for Victor. His hearing has been going out these past few decades."

"Asshole." Sully grunted, but made nothing more of the comment. Vincent also ignored it, too wrapped up in his story.

"Well I didn't expect you to know the name. It's not too common. But Crocea Mors is the name given to Caesar's sword by Geoffrey of Monmouth in his _British History_."

"Wait a second." Sully asked, sitting on the edge of his seat, eyes sparkling again. Drake could tell that right now his brain was already calculating how much money they could get for the sword. "The sword of Caesar. As in _the_ Caesar? _Julius_ Caesar?"

"Julius Caesar." Vincent confirmed, smiling and nodding. Sully collapsed backwards into his chair, putting the palms of his hands over his eyes. A small "Whoa" was all he could manage.

"That thing must be worth a fortune." Sully said without sitting up, eyes still covered.

"I can see why van Meer is so eager to get his grubby Dutch hands on this sword" Flynn said, his voice dripping with greed. "It's got to be worth several times what he was paying us combined!"

Vincent nodded a slow, reserved nod. He was letting the facts sink in, but he wasn't even close to finished.

"There's more, isn't there?" Drake asked. Sully sat up, staring at Vincent. The story was beginning to get too good to be true for the old man.

"Yes, actually." Vincent said, his voice staying at a low whisper. "As you know, Caesar was considered and excellent soldier and killed many, many men. According to our good friend Geoffrey, this killing prowess was due to Caesar's sword. Apparently, Crocea Mors carries the plague. A plague that infects everybody who is cut by it, making even the smallest scratch lethal."

Drake turned to Flynn, who had also come upon the same realization. Flynn lifted his shirt, showing the faint red line where van Meer had cut him.

"Even a scratch like this?" He asked, and Vincent looked at him in confusion.

"When van Meer had us in his office, he told us that there was a power to the sword we couldn't understand. So he said he would demonstrate it for us." Drake explained, and Vincent was entirely focused on his words. "He cut Flynn, but when nothing happened he turned furious. Once the tables turned and we got free, he escaped but left the sword behind. I thought that was really strange since he had gone through so much trouble to secure the blade."

Vincent nodded, the gears in his head turning and working furiously.

"So… I was right. Van Meer believes that Crocea Mors carries the plague. And he also thought the Blade of Attila was actually Crocea Mors."

"Vincent." Miranda cut in, her voice soft and almost worried sounding. "Do you believe the other rumor about Crocea Mors? That it is made of Corinthian Bronze?"

"I do." Vincent said, still far away in his own thoughts. "That was the only justification I could find for the blade we were stealing looking the way it did." Vincent turned expectantly towards Drake, Flynn, and Sully. He was hoping they were following, but upon seeing the confused faces looking back at him, he immediately explained.

"Corinthian Bronze is first mentioned by Pliny the Elder, whose name you may recognize for his _Naturalis Historia _and from his death in Pompeii during the Mount Vesuvius eruption. His nephew, Pliny the Younger, wrote one of the greatest accounts of that eruption. But, I digress." Vincent shrugged and smiled, clearly enjoying his impromptu history lesson. "Pliny actually discusses Corinthian Bronze in his _Naturalis Historia_. Miranda, could you get it for me?" Miranda nodded and left the room. "My sister is a bit of a history buff and has plenty of tomes of antiquity that make for great reference."

Miranda returned after a minute with two large books in her hands. "I also brought _British History_, since you mentioned it." She said as she set down the books. Vincent mumbled his thanks as he began flipping through Pliny's encyclopedia.

"It should be here… Chapter three… Ah! Here we go. He calls it Corinthian Brass, but I promise, it's the same metal. Let's see. '_Formerly a mixture was made of copper fused with gold and silver… we have now so entirely lost the method of making this valuable compound by fusion__,__ that__,__ for this long time past__,__ not even chance itself has assumed__,__ in this department__,__ the privilege which formerly belonged to art…They are of three kinds__;__ the white variety__,_ _approaching very nearly to the splendor of silver__,__ and in which that metal forms a large proportion of the compound__;__ a second kind__,__ in which the yellow color of gold predominates__;__ and a third__,__ in which all the metals are mixed in equal proportions__.'_So we have a very vague understanding of how the metal was made, and also that nobody knows how to make it anymore. I also think that the blade is made of the second type of fusion, which would lead to the fact that it is called the _yellow_ death. We also know from brief mention by Plutarch and Cicero that Corinthian Bronze was resistant to tarnish."

"Do we know anything else about Corinthian Bronze?" Drake asked, curious as to why he had never heard of it before.

"Not really." Vincent replied, shrugging. "There are no samples that have been found to this day. According to Pliny, its production was stopped in the year 146 B.C. Any Corinthian Bronze that did exist disappeared after being confiscated by those who were in charge back then. Pliny talks about how men would be prosecuted for not handing products made of Corinthian Bronze over to officials."

Flynn sat forward and shook his head. "So van Meer is going after a mythical blade that is made of a metal that no longer exists but is worth more than gold and silver combined?"

"And the blade supposedly carries the plague." Drake added.

"Yep." Vincent said, smiling. "That's just about it!"

"Well what the hell are we doing sitting around here?" Sully asked, standing up. "Let's go stop this son of a bitch and get ourselves one hell of a fancy sword!"

"Well, that's the problem." Vincent said, his face falling. "We have no idea where to look. I thought the blade of Attila was Crocea Mors, but apparently not if van Meer left it behind. And now he knows where the actual sword is."

"He only knows where it is because of your journal." Flynn said, sounding desperate. "You must have some idea where it is! What did you write in there?"

Vincent shook his head, frustrated by his inability to remember. "I don't know! I focused my research on Caesar and wrote all of that in there. But that didn't even mention his sword. The only source I wrote that mentioned his sword was the one by Geoffrey of Monmouth. I included some of the excerpts from his _British History_, but that is the only part of my notes that mentions Crocea Mors."

"Well that's why I brought this." Miranda said as she leaned forward and handed Vincent _Geoffrey of Monmouth__'__s British History_, which was even larger than Pliny's encyclopedia.

"Do you think you can find that excerpt again?" She asked. Vincent nodded and opened the book.

"He mentioned it while talking about Caesar's invasion of Britain, in particular their battle on the Thames. He mentions the sword very briefly. '_The name of the sword was Crocea Mors __(__yellow__-__death__),__ as being mortal to every body that was wounded with it__._' That's all that he says." Vincent stopped, his eyes flickering over the page. Suddenly, they grew wide.

"My god. This is it. This must have been what Kroonen realized!" Vincent got up and flipped through the pages, pacing around the room quickly as he did so. He was fidgety and talking unbelievably fast. "That's the only explanation; there must have been some confusion with Priscus. Maybe he didn't know about this and assumed the sword was stolen or something. I'm not sure, but this has got to be it!" He turned back to the other people in the room. He looked frantic and exhilarated. Everybody else just looked confused.

"Vince, I hate to be rude, but you're starting to act like Nate." Sully said, looking skeptically at Vincent.

"Hey!" Drake protested, but Sully shushed him.

"Point is, you're talking like a crazy man. We can't follow a goddamn thing you're saying, and we would all very much like you to get to the point." Sully continued, pointing his cigar at the archaeologist.

"Of course. Sorry. Well he's describing the battle, and he is specifically talking about the British Prince and soldier Nennius, who was the brother of Cassibellaun, the general of the battle. Actually, it's probably easier if I just read it to you." He flipped the pages back and cleared his throat, clearly opting for dramatics.

"_While the armies were thus engaged__,__ it happened that Nennius and Androgeus__,__ with the citizens of Canterbury and Trinovantum__,__ whom they commanded__,__ had the fortune to meet with the troop in which the Caesar himself was present… During this action__,__ fortune gave Nennius an opportunity of encountering Caesar__.__ Nennius therefore boldly made up to him and was in great joy that he could but give so much as one blow to so great a man__.__ On the other hand__,__ Caesar being aware of his design__,__ stretched out his shield to receive him__,__ and with all his might struck him upon the helmet with his drawn sword__,__ which he lifted up again with an intention to finish his first blow__,__ and make it mortal__;__ but Nennius carefully prevented him with his shield__,__ upon which Caesar__'__s sword glancing with great force from the helmet__,__ became so firmly fastened therein that when… they could no longer continue the encounter __,__ the general was not able to draw it out again__.__ Nennius__,__ thus becoming master of Caesar__'__s sword__,__ threw away his own__,__ and pulling the other out__,__ made haste to employ it against the enemy__.__ Whomsoever he struck with it he either cut off his head or left him wounded without hopes of recovery__. _Geoffrey goes on to explain most of the battle, which the Britons won. Caesar retreats, blah blah blah. What's important is fifteen days later."

Vincent flipped through the pages and took a sip of his drink. The archaeologist had started perspiring from sheer excitement, and Drake found that he too was trembling with anticipation.

"…_he was much oppressed with grief for his brother Nennius__,__ who lay mortally wounded__,__ and at the very point of death__.__ For Caesar had wounded him in the encounter__,__ and the blow which he had given him proved incurable__;__ so that fifteen days after the battle he died__,__ and was buried at Trinovantum__,__ by the North Gate__.__ His funeral exsequies were performed with regal pomp__,__ and Caesar__'__s sword put into the tomb with him__,__ which he had kept possession of__,__ when struck into his shield in the combat__."_

The room was silent for several minutes as everybody absorbed the knowledge they had just been given.

"Trinovantum..." Drake said, his mind recalling something he had once read. "That's the archaic name for London, isn't it? Before the Roman's took over?"

"Right." Miranda said. "So he was buried near the North Gate of what was then the region of London."

"Where the hell is that?" Sully asked, his full attention now on Vincent.

"There are two that I know of." Vincent responded, running his hand through his hair as he tried to remember. "There is one in Central London and one in Silchester."

"Well which one is it?" Flynn demanded, on the edge of his seat. For him, this was a huge deal. He hadn't had a good find in several months.

"I'm not sure." Vincent sighed, his brow furrowed. "I know the one in Silchester was excavated thoroughly for years, and they did find scattered bones. But no sword." Vincent shook his head, letting out a low groan. "But that doesn't make sense! They wouldn't have taken him that far away. If it was only 15 days, it makes more sense that they would stay nearby, and London is just down the river from where the battle was, at the mouth of the Thames." Vincent leaned back for a moment, deep in thought. "But… There was an excavation at the London site. It was called 'The North Gate house'. It was a very brief excavation; I believe it only lasted one season because it was being built over. All they found were some kilns and pottery."

"Built over?" Drake asked. If there was something constructed over the site, it would make things much more difficult.

"Yeah… so it was only three or four months of excavation. They didn't find any grave… but that certainly doesn't mean there isn't one!" Vincent was suddenly excited, he ran out of the room and came back a second later with his laptop.

"Okay, so the North Gate house was excavated in 1995… And according to the Museum of London website, the site was built over with the new headquarters of… Cazenove and Company Ltd." He paused, and his face paled. "That's a stockbroking company that van Meer practically owns ever since its partnership ended. He will have unrestricted access to the building." He flopped back, staring at the screen.

Drake let out a sigh and Flynn leaned back in his chair, clearly disappointed.

"Goddamn it." Sully grumbled. "If van Meer has several days head start on us, he probably already got his hands on the sword."

"It says here in _The Times_ that the headquarters has been shut down on late notice these past couple of days for an emergency archaeological excavation led by a private company." Vincent said as he continued reading from his laptop screen. He looked up at the others in the room, his eyes depressed. "That's got to be van Meer."

Everybody in the room hung their heads, the mood suddenly downcast. After a few minutes of silence Vincent stood up, eyes blazing.

"No. We can't just sit here. Even a high budget excavation can't move that quickly. We have to look, at least to check it out. If he's gone, then so be it. But I will never forgive myself if we don't even try."

Miranda looked up at her brother with pride and also stood up.

"Vincent, if you think it's worth it, then I'm coming with you. We have an opportunity to change history. How about we don't let this asshole beat us to it?"

Flynn also stood up, a cocky smile on his face.

"A chance to recover a priceless sword and get revenge on the guy who not only dicked us over, but also tried to kill us? Don't mind if I do."

Sully slowly lifted himself out of the chair he was sitting in, stretched, and took a draw from his cigar. He blew out the smoke and shrugged.

"Ah, what the hell. Count me in. After all, this could be fun." He said with a small wink at Miranda. He turned to look at Drake who was still sitting down.

"Nate?"

Drake looked around at this group of friends, some old and some new. They almost formed a full circle. As corny as it was, the circle wasn't complete without him. He smiled widely and stood up.

"Looks like we're all going to London."

**_Author's_**_** Notes: Ah, Chapter 5. This was a fun chapter, lots of historical research (still true!) and lots of digging into the characters personalities. I really love the Flynn/Sully relationship and you'll see more of those two picking on each other. So far so good, yes? None of the reviews have had any criticism's, so I am wondering if I have achieved perfection! Thank you to those who have been reviewing and following the story, I aim to not disappoint! I'll post the next chapter soon, so keep your eyes open to find out what happens when the gang tries to stop van Meer's excavation in London.**_


	7. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Drake, Sully, Flynn, Vincent, and Miranda arrived at the London City Airport mid-morning the next day, having taken the first plane out of New York. Exhausted from the time change, lack of sleep, and eight hour plane ride, the group decided to spend a day resting. Vincent had plotted everything out on the plane and decided that to start an excavation, destroy the basement, and dig without risk of destroying the grave itself could take as long as two weeks. They could spare a day. So it was agreed that they would relax and sight-see for one day, then spend the next day scouting out the area and making a game plan.

The group stayed at the Radisson Edwardian Kenilworth Hotel, which was near Bedford Square and the British Museum. While driving there, they passed Cazenove and Co. Ltd. and found it roped off with yellow tape and several dump trucks filled with debris. Besides that, it appeared nothing interesting was happening. No soldiers, no guards, nothing. If they did the job in the middle of the day, odds are it would be much easier. The street was narrow and open, with security cameras everywhere. But there were also several rooftops all the same height. Already Drake could tell that the roof was their way in.

Before heading back to the hotel, Sully informed them all that he had something special he wanted to show Drake.

"Oh god Sully, is this something that will scar me for life? Like that 'surprise' you showed me in the Bahamas?"

Sully laughed full-heartedly before mocking seriousness and pointing at Drake.

"I thought we agreed to never speak of that again? Still, you have to admit, that girl had talent." Miranda giggled softly, and Drake covered his eyes and groaned as he shook his head. "But no, it's not like the Bahamas. This is something you'll actually enjoy." Sully finished before flicking the stub of his cigar out the window.

He drove across the Thames and pulled into one of the many docks.

"Ta-Da!" Sully said, getting out of the car and spreading his arms wide. In the dock was a large, old looking ship with a gold doe as its figure-head.

"Holy shit, Sully, it's Sir Francis Drake's ship!" Drake cried out ecstatically, walking around the life size model and gazing at it.

"Yeah, I had a feeling you'd like it. There was a brochure at the airport. 'The Golden-something-or-other', right?"

"C'mon Sully, 'The Golden Hind'. You should know that."

"I don't think the name of Sir Francis Drake's ship will ever be useful information. Even for us." Sully chuckled. Drake just shrugged and started walking around the ship.

"It really is beautiful." Miranda said as she walked over to the ship and examined it close up.

"Congratulations, Victor." Flynn said as he and Vincent stood next to Sully. "You have achieved a whole new level of ass kissing."

"And you've achieved a whole new level of asshole." Sully grumbled in response.

"Can't you two quit it for just ten minutes?" Vincent interjected, gazing with admiration at the ship. "This really is a spectacular model." He looked at Drake who was pointing out different features of the ship to Miranda. "He's like a little kid at Christmas." Vincent remarked, pointing at Drake. "What's with the Sir Francis Drake obsession?"

"Obsession doesn't even begin to explain it." Flynn said in response, smiling. "Nate is the illegitimate descendant of Sir Francis Drake. He knows everything about the guy."

"More than once we've been dragged into some sketchy situations because of Sir Francis Drake." Sully said, a wide nostalgic smile on his face. "Ever since I met the kid, he's had his life dedicated to what Sir Francis did. That's how he got started in the treasure hunting business."

The three of them continued watching Drake run around the ship as Miranda came over and joined them.

"I was planning on coming back for the paid tour, but I don't really think I need to anymore." She said with a smile on her face.

Drake soon came over to join them as well, and the group piled back into the car and drove to the hotel. They checked into their room and relaxed until that night when they visited the British Museum. Drake was glad to finally be going a museum for no reason other than as a tourist. He wasn't robbing the place, and wasn't researching some obscure item. He was just visiting with a group of friends. It felt refreshing.

That night, they ate at a café in Bedford Square and drove back to the hotel to get as much sleep as they could. On the drive back, the realization of their true purpose began to settle in. Van Meer, Crocea Mors, Cazenove and Co. Ltd… It all came back to the front of their minds as they drifted through the streets of London. And in a somber mood, the five friends went to sleep with the anticipation of the next day hanging above their heads.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Flynn, Drake, and Sully stood on the roof of a high end hotel down the street from Cazenove, dressed as maintenance workers. Sully had provided the fake identification and outfits; Vincent and Miranda had agreed to stay in the lobby and be sure that nothing occurred that might disrupt the stakeout.<p>

"Ok, so here's what we've got." Drake said, looking through his binoculars at the banking building. "No guards on the ground or roof except one guy in a police outfit standing at the door. But he's definitely one of Ambessa's soldiers. Besides that, the place looks abandoned. Here, Flynn take a look." He said, handing Flynn the binoculars.

"Yeah, that's one of Ambessa's. But it looks like he's the only guy. The rest must be inside. So I take it we can't waltz in the front door." Flynn said, setting down the binoculars.

Drake shook his head, picking up the binoculars again.

"No, front door is definitely out. But I do have an idea. Everybody on the streets right now is headed to work. But in a few hours nobody will be out and about. All these buildings are banks and the hours are pretty stiff. We should be able to make our move, and if we are fast nobody will even see us."

"So what are you thinking?" Sully asked, puffing on a fresh cigar. Drake handed Sully the binoculars and pointed out the building next to Cazenove and Co. Ltd.

"See that building there. It looks like it's in the middle of construction. I'm thinking we get into there, jump through one of those windows, swing onto the Cazenove windowsill and break in. There's a lamp post right where the two buildings share a wall. We could use that to swing over."

"Yeah, I see it." Sully mumbled. "It's right above a security camera. Nice. They won't even see us coming. But you do realize we need to go in gun's blazing? There could be soldiers posted on each floor."

"I've got that covered." Flynn said, opening the large duffle he had brought with him. Inside were several pistols and automatic rifles that could be taken apart and put back together.

"Alright, so have we got ourselves a plan?" Drake asked. Flynn nodded and Drake looked at Sully, who was still using the binoculars.

"Sully, you with us? I swear if you're looking through some woman's bathroom window…"

"As enticing as that sounds," Sully said, handing Drake the binoculars "take a look at that helicopter."

Drake looked at what Sully was pointing out and nodded.

"That's a military chopper. Why would it be flying so low in a banking district?"

He lowered the binoculars and the three men watched as the helicopter descended several blocks away. Drake picked up the radio and asked Vincent to talk to the concierge about a helicopter landing area nearby, and in a few minutes Vincent responded, saying that the concierge didn't know of any.

"We need to check out that helicopter." Drake said to the others, and they nodded. The trio made their way downstairs and headed out with Vincent and Miranda. They stripped off their disguises and drove in the general direction of where the helicopter had gone down. They soon reached a small park named "Finsbury Circus". The park was closed off with police lines, and in the middle of the large central field was the military helicopter. Curious bystanders were pushed away by policemen, but as the group drove closer they realized that the policemen were just more of Ambessa's men in disguise. They parked the car on the side of the road and Drake and Sully climbed out, looking at the helicopter over the edge of a fence. At least a dozen soldiers dressed as police officers were gathered around it, but one officer seemed to tower over the others.

"Shit!" Drake hissed, ducking down. "It's Ambessa."

He peeked over again and saw Ambessa giving order to the men, who filed out of the park and into a group of vans that pulled away and drove towards Cazenove. Only three soldiers were left to guard the helicopter.

Drake and Sully headed back to the car, and as soon as they climbed in told the others what they had seen.

"So, wait, Mason just got here?" Vincent asked, clearly confused. Drake had to admit, he was also confused.

"I guess so. I don't know why, but yes, he just got here."

"So what do we do now?" Flynn asked, suddenly nervous. His face was still lightly bruised from his last encounter with Ambessa.

"This changes nothing. If anything, we will use this to our benefit." Drake said. He paused to think and then started nodding. "Ok… Ok, here's what we'll do. Sully, you and Miranda are staying here. Miranda will stay in the car, just in case. But Sully, when we call you over the radio, you jump out and take out those soldiers. Since you know how to fly, you take the helicopter over to the roof of Cazenove. We jump in, hopefully with the sword, and then we fly away. We land the helicopter a safe distance away, where Miranda will meet us, and we all go back to the hotel to plan our next move. Sound good?"

"It's as good a plan as any." Flynn said, and Vincent nodded in agreement. Miranda seemed a little bit upset about being left in the car but she nodded.

"It's risky." Sully said, rubbing his chin. "But flying out is a hell of a lot better than running out."

"Alright, let's go." Drake said, his voice trembling. Miranda drove them back to Cazenove and then turned around to go wait with Sully at Finsbury Circus. Drake had been right about the street being empty around this time of day. Save a few cars and pedestrians, there were no witnesses. It also looked like the building that was under construction was not being worked on that day. _All for the better_. Drake thought. Maybe his luck was turning around at last.

Drake, Flynn, and Vincent entered the building unopposed, and soon made their way to the fourth floor. Drake jumped out the window, clinging to the edge. With a rifle slung across his shoulder and a pistol holstered at his waist, the sight probably would have caused any banker to go into a panic.

Drake edged his way the few feet over to the lamp post, at which point he dropped down and held on as tight as he could. He swung himself back and forth a few times, and then launched himself forward. He had over calculated, however, and flew past the window sill. As he tumbled through the air, he flailed his arms and managed to grab hold of a lion figurehead halfway up the wall.

"Careful!" Vincent cried out as Drake struggled to lift himself.

"Relax mate." Flynn said coolly. "He lives for this stuff." Drake grumbled a snide comment, but didn't have the energy to really go through with it. He reached the window sill and lifted himself up. Using the butt of his rifle, he broke the glass and jumped in, immediately aiming at any soldiers that might be in the building.

Drake found himself standing in a small, dark office, and after trying the door that led into the hallway, decided it was safe. The door was locked, and if it was locked from the inside, it was also locked from the outside. He leaned out the window and signaled to Vincent and Flynn, who made their way over to the window. When all three were standing in the office with guns ready, Drake turned and kicked the door open. He checked the hallway and was surprised to find that it was entirely empty and also dark. The trio repeated this process of breaking down doors and aiming rifles as they made their way down to the first floor, but didn't encounter any of Ambessa's soldiers.

"Where the bloody hell _is_ everyone?" Flynn hissed as they reached the large lobby. Except for the guard still lounging outside, there was still no sign of any soldiers. Also, every room they had passed through so far was dark. It appeared that the power for the building had been shut off.

"Who cares? Maybe we're just lucky." Vincent whispered in response, looking around the room. "Let's find out how to get to the basement."

"No, no. Vincent, you don't seem to understand. Nate here, he _never_ has good luck. If things are going well, that just means things are going to get much worse."

Vincent shrugged and walked around the room, looking for another stairwell. Drake was behind the receptionist desk, examining a map of the building and sighed. If there was a basement, it wasn't marked on the map.

"If there's no basement, how could they get underneath this place?' Drake asked, turning to look at the other two. Vincent was leaning against a wall, running his hand though his hair, deep in thought. Flynn was nowhere to be seen.

"Flynn?" Drake called out, as loud as he dared.

"Back here, mate!" Flynn called back, from somewhere behind the receptionist desk. Drake hadn't noticed, but the lobby went around the receptionists desk and led to another, smaller lobby. There were only a few offices back there, some of them under the titles of "Executive" and "Manager". One door, the one Flynn was standing next to, was labeled "Employees Only".

Flynn pulled open the door, and the three men peered into a stairwell that headed downwards, dimly lit by light bulbs strung along the sides. A gentle murmur of distant voices drifted up from within the basement. Flynn led the group as they slowly picked their way down the stairs and reached a point where the stairs changed from concrete to wood. They descended a few more feet and found themselves in what remained of the basement, now a small dug up chamber filled with soldiers.

"How the hell did they dig this much up in a few days!" Vincent exclaimed, gazing around the room. Drake shushed him and pulled him down behind the wall of a platform that overlooked the excavation. Vincent peeked over and immediately dropped down again, his face pale.

"Oh my god!" He whispered fearfully. Drake looked over and immediately understood what had frightened the archaeologist so much. The swarm of soldiers, all shouting at each other in Afrikaans, were circled around a smaller circle of soldiers. Amongst them was Kroonen and van Meer. Van Meer looked flustered and excited, shouting senseless orders rapidly at the soldiers near him. This smaller circle was gathered around a large stone sarcophagus, the grave of the British Prince Nennius.

"I thought you said they wouldn't find anything until a week, minimum!" Drake said to Vincent as he dropped down again.

"Well, clearly they are not using conventional archaeology! They probably used explosives to take apart the floor. But it looks like they just finished unearthing the grave. We're right on time!" Vincent's fear changed into a look of excitement and he lifted his head over the edge of the wall again. Flynn and Drake also raised their heads to observe the spectacle.

"Terugstaan!" Van Meer was yelling at the soldiers. "Stand back! Get away from it!" The soldiers obediently stepped aside, and van Meer walked over to the rough-hewn sarcophagus.

"This is it… We have it…" Van Meer started laughing "Nennius, my dear friend! You have no idea how much trouble you have caused me. I'm sure you are fully aware of how powerful the weapon you hold with you is, but it is time to pass it on to somebody who can truly appreciate it."

Van Meer stood for a few moments longer, then walked back to join Kroonen. He waved the soldiers towards the sarcophagus, urging them to continue.

"Dit oop te maak"

"He told them to open it." Vincent whispered to the others.

"Yeah, I don't need to speak Dutch to get that, mate." Flynn whispered in return.

"Actually, he's speaking Afrikaans. Very similar to Dutch, which is probably why he speaks it well. That's what Ambessa's soldiers speak. Actually, now that I think about it, where is-"

But before Vincent could finish his thought, Drake shushed him and pointed back into the excavation room. The three peered down and saw the soldiers pushing the lid of the sarcophagus. The lid groaned under the pressure and slowly began to give way, sliding back and revealing the inside of the sarcophagus. After a few more seconds, the lid fell to the ground and van Meer rushed over.

Vincent, Drake, and Flynn, who all had a view of the inside of the sarcophagus, let out a simultaneous gasp. Van Meer peered inside, and stood rigidly still for a few moments. The room grew silent as the soldiers awaited his reaction.

"It's… empty." He said, softly. There was a very long pause, during which nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Nobody breathed. Van Meer simply stared into the sarcophagus, and Drake thought he saw the man cry. During his frantic excitement, several strands of van Meer's hair had come loose from his ponytail, and while they had made him look energetic and fanatic, they now made him look depressed.

"Empty… Jozeph, come here."

Kroonen walked cautiously over to van Meer and stood next to him.

"Yes, Piet?"

Suddenly, van Meer reached out and grabbed the back of Kroonen's head and brought it down full force on the edge of the sarcophagus. Kroonen fell to the ground with a little cry of pain and surprise, blood now gushing from his forehead. Van Meer grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up, shoving his face in the sarcophagus.

"Do you see this, sukkel? Do you see it is empty? There is niets! We have nothing! You stupid rotzak!"

Van Meer released Kroonen, who slumped into the sarcophagus, and walked a few feet away. His hair was now entirely disheveled, his ponytail undone and hair framing his head like a wild lion's mane.

"Pielkops! Can no one do anything right?" He bellowed out at the group of soldiers, who muttered and started to back away, some placing their hands on their guns.

"Piet…" The feeble voice came from Kroonen, who remain slumped in the sarcophagus.

"What is it?" van Meer barked, turning sharply and glaring down at his assistant.

"There is something here. Written on the inside." Kroonen groaned lifting his head. Van Meer strode over and pulled Kroonen out and looked in.

"_Unde Conditus__.__ Ubi mortui iacere alto__.__ Sequere cor__."_ Van Meer read. He turned to Kroonen, who lied on the ground, trying to stop the bleeding from his head. "What does it mean?" He hissed, and Kroonen looked up at him.

"I'm not sure. It's in Latin, which we can easily translate but I don't know." Kroonen said through clenched teeth. Van Meer stared at him and then kicked out. Kroonen blocked the kick with his arm, but it was still enough to knock him to the ground.

"Waardeloos klootzak!" He shouted. Kroonen tried to get up, but van Meer rolled him over, grabbed his shirt, and lifted him so they were face to face. "Useless asshole, I should have had you killed and kept the American archaeologist instead!"

"Well then I think today is your lucky day, Piet!" Bellowed a deep voice behind Drake, Vincent, and Flynn. The three froze in place as the entire room turned to look at them. They didn't need to look to know it was Ambessa

"Stand up, you three, and keep your arms in the air." Ambessa said, and they complied. Van Meer looked at them in shock, then immediately his face split into another wide smile, as if the meltdown had never happened. He quickly fixed his hair back into a neat ponytail, and rushed up the stairs to the platform.

"Dhr. Drake, Dhr. Flynn! And Dhr. Fawkes, what an extremely surprising appearance. The other two I expected to be alive, but you I had thought were dead for sure. I suppose some people are just too unreliable." He said, turning sharply to look at Kroonen, who was still trying to lift himself off the ground.

"What's up, Piet? No longer on a first-name basis?" Vincent asked sarcastically.

"Well, we are not really friends any longer." Van Meer replied. "Although I have to admit, Dhr. Fawkes, it is quite fortunate that you lived, given that right now I am desperately in need of your help."

Vincent laughed at van Meer and, still smiling, looked him dead in the eye.

"No."

Van Meer met Vincent's gaze for a few seconds, then backhanded him. Vincent stumbled back, turning his head to the side and bringing a hand up to his burning face.

"You insult me, Dhr. Fawkes." Van Meer said, rubbing the back of his hand. "But I do understand your hostility. You are upset because I have this." Van Meer continued, pulling Vincent's journal out from his jacket pocket and held it in front of Vincent.

"Well, I am a bit ticked off because you tried to kill me, but sure, I guess I want my notebook too." Vincent said, his voice still dripping with sarcasm.

"Well then, I think we can come to an appropriate exchange." Van Meer said. "You can translate Latin, yes?"

"Yes, I can. And we were here long enough to know what you want. I'll help you translate the engraving. Hand me the journal."

Van Meer eyed Vincent suspiciously, who sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I need to write it down to translate it." He said, sounding exasperated. Drake looked at him questioningly. What was he trying to do? Was he actually helping van Meer?

Van Meer nodded and handed Vincent the journal and a pen. "If you try anything, Ambessa will shoot you down."

For extra emphasis, Ambessa cocked his rifle, and Vincent nodded his understanding. He flipped open the journal to the last page and looked past van Meer to Kroonen, who was now standing and mopping his face with a handkerchief.

"Hey, klootzak!" Vincent shouted down to him "Read the inscription for me one more time!" Kroonen scowled and looked at van Meer, who gave him a slight nod. Kroonen leaned back over the sarcophagus and read out the inscription.

"_Unde Conditus__.__ Ubi mortui iacere alto__.__ Sequere cor__."_

Vincent wrote the phrase down into his journal and mumbled to himself before writing something underneath it.

"Well?" Van Meer asked, leaning forward eagerly. Vincent closed the journal and looked first at Drake and then Flynn. Drake tensed up, he could tell something was about to happen.

"Well, Piet, it's a rough translation." Vincent said, pocketing his journal. "But basically, the translation is… well…" Vincent paused, sharing one last look with Drake.

"What does it say!" Van Meer yelled, grabbing Vincent's shirt and pulling him close. Vincent pushed himself away and gave a crooked smile, his eyes burning with vigor.

"It translates to: 'Go burn in hell, you son of a bitch!'" Vincent said, snapping out with his fist and smashing into Van Meer's face. Drake turned and attacked Ambessa, forcing his gun away from Vincent. Ambessa fired a few rounds, but then started trying to wrestle the gun away from Drake. Vincent wrapped his arm around van Meer's neck from behind and pulled out his pistol, pressing it against the man's temple.

"Nobody move!" Vincent shouted out. Everybody froze, and Drake pushed Ambessa aside, who stood there without moving. The other soldier's behind him lowered their guns and kept their eyes locked on Vincent. Flynn and Drake also pulled out their guns, and pointed them at the soldiers. Kroonen hissed orders into his walkie-talkie as Vincent walked backwards, guiding van Meer out the doorway and back into the staircase.

"If you kill me, they will shoot you down in an instant." Van Meer said to Vincent, his voice choked from having his windpipe crushed under Vincent's arm.

"I know." Vincent said. "But all I need is a distraction."

As soon as they reached the top of the staircase, Vincent pushed van Meer down the stairwell, causing him to tumble all the way down. He closed the "Employees Only" door, turning towards Drake and Flynn who were standing behind him and looking at him in surprise.

"Gentlemen," Vincent said with another crooked smile "I strongly recommend that we run."

_**Author's Notes: Right back into the action with Chapter 6! I hope you all enjoyed this one, I know I did. You have all left some great reviews so far, so keep it up! Tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, etc. etc. Thank you all for following my story and reviewing it. Next up is Chapter 7, where things get tense as the group leaves London.**_


	8. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

The trio ran as fast as they could into the stairwell, and without pausing started sprinting up the stairs. At about the second flight, they heard the stairwell door get kicked down, and Ambessa's deep voice shouting orders. There was the sound of marching feet and then guns being fired up the stairwell.

"Get away from the sides!" Drake yelled, pulling Flynn away from the bullets that clanged against the handrail.

"Hell! We should have just taken the elevator." Flynn said, gasping for breath.

"Power's out, remember?" Drake said in response. "Don't tell me you're already tired! We've got, like, ten flights left." Flynn let out a massive sigh and the group kept running, not even daring to stop for cover fire. Drake pulled out the walkie-talkie as he ran and shouted into it over the sound of the bullets.

"Sully! Sully, do you read me?"

_"__Yeah I hear ya kid__.__ What__'__s all that goddamn racket__?"_

"We kinda decided to skip the whole subtlety thing. It got boring. Anyway we need you to pick us up in a couple of minutes here."

_"__Skip the subtlety__? __What the hell are you talking about__?"_

Flynn reached over and wrenched the walkie-talkie out of Drake's hand and held it to his mouth.

"Damn it, old man! Fly the bloody helicopter to the roof and pick us up!"

_"__Alright__,__ alright__.__ Jesus Flynn__,__ sometimes you just can__'__t take a joke__.__ I__'__m on my way now__."_

Flynn handed Drake the walkie-talkie, ignoring the condescending look he was being given.

"Really, Harry. We were just joking."

"We don't have time for that kind of shit, Nate!"

A few flights later, they were beyond conversation. The gunfire had ceased, and the tired soldiers seemed to be solely focused on running up the stairs. Flynn, Drake, and Vincent were covered in sweat from sprinting up the steps and the guns strapped on their backs were beginning to weigh tons. Finally, on the twelfth flight, they saw an emergency door marked as roof access. They barreled through, and finally came out onto the roof of the Cazenove and Co. Ltd. Headquarters.

Drake looked around desperately and saw the helicopter flying over from the north.

"Damn it, Sully, hurry up." Drake muttered turning towards the roof access door they had just come up from. The helicopter was over them in a minute, and Sully lowered a rope ladder. Flynn started climbing just as the first of the soldiers burst onto the roof. Drake and Vincent took advantage of the narrow opening and soldier's exhaustion to shoot many of them down, and they retreated a few steps. Vincent started climbing the rope ladder, and Drake took cover as the soldiers sent some return fire. Suddenly, Drake's radio crackled to life and Drake heard the faint drone of Sully's voice.

"Say that again, Sully." Drake shouted as he adjusted the setting of his walkie-talkie. Sully radioed in again, this time clear enough to understand.

_"__Grab the rope ladder__!"_

Drake fired off a few more rounds before turning and lunging for the swaying ladder. He grabbed hold and stabilized himself as the helicopter started to turn.

_"__Hold on__,__ kid__!"_

The helicopter pulled back and angled its nose down towards the roof as several soldiers poured out. Drake tried climbing the ladder, but it was too difficult to do as the helicopter moved. Suddenly, a loud thundering sound was heard above him and Drake looked up to see the machine guns on the bottom of the helicopter going off, firing round after round of high caliber bullets into the crowd of soldiers. The helicopter was stationary now, and Drake started climbing as fast as he could.

For the second time that week, Drake found himself climbing into a flying vehicle while under enemy gunfire, only to collapse on the ground and look around at the faces surrounding him.

"Hasn't this happened before?" He muttered. Flynn and Vincent both got the reference and chuckled. Flynn then started rolling up the ladder as Vincent leaned into the cockpit.

"Fly us outta here Sully!"

"Sure thing Vincent, how about I just pick off the stragglers first?" Sully shouted back, and after a few more seconds of firing, he started lifting the helicopter higher and turning it. Drake looked down and saw that Sully hadn't been exaggerating. The two dozen soldiers who had been pursuing them were now lying dead on the roof. All except one, who had just run on. A very large soldier. With a very large gun.

"Everybody get down!" Drake cried out as Ambessa opened fire on them. The bullets clanged against the helicopter, a few ripping through the metal.

"Sully! Fly higher and get out of his range!" Drake shouted over the noise of the bullets. Sully did fly higher, but it wasn't enough. The bullets kept striking the helicopter, and although none of the men were shot, a red light soon started blinking in the cockpit.

"Of all the goddamn luck…" Sully grumbled. He turned and shouted back at Drake, Flynn, and Vincent "Hey you three, grab some parachutes! He hit our gas tank!"

Drake slipped on his parachute, but noticed that the gunfire had stopped. He looked over and saw Ambessa discard the gun, and realized that all of the ammo was used up. Still, Ambessa stood there, watching them. The smoke was probably a dead giveaway that they were crashing, and he wanted to make sure they were dead.

"The helicopter's autopilot will keep it rising!" Sully shouted, as he slipped on his own parachute. "So we have a little bit of time before the gas runs out. We want to jump when we are as high as possible, so when I say jump, you jump. I suggest you try to guide the parachute away from the guy who is trying to kill us." The other three men nodded, and Flynn turned to Vincent, smiling.

"What did I tell you? We never have good luck!"

Vincent smiled in return, trying to mask his fear.

"Jump!"

* * *

><p>Drake felt himself dropping through the air and quickly pulled his chord, his parachute launching behind him. He immediately felt the drag and remembered just how much he hated parachuting. He tilted away from Ambessa and towards Finsbury Circus, where Miranda still waited. He looked back at the helicopter, which had now pitched off in the opposite direction and was dropping drastically. He also looked back and saw that Flynn and Sully were following his lead, but Vincent was not. Instead, the archaeologist was struggling to aim his parachute, which was horribly tangled. Drakes stomach dropped as he realized that Vincent was going straight down to the roof they had just left. He tried to veer his parachute around, but only succeeded in turning it partially, causing him to land several buildings down from Cazenove and Co. Ltd. Sully and Flynn were carried by the wind several blocks further, where Drake assumed they landed safely, but Vincent landed on the roof of the under construction building they had used to break in.<p>

"_Nate__,__ where the hell are you__?__ What happened to Vincent__?"_Sully barked over the radio.

"He had a faulty parachute. He landed on the building next to Cazenove." Drake responded. He watched in horror as Vincent, now untangled from the parachute, started waving him down. Ambessa had also seen Vincent go down, and was now making his way over to the young man. "I have to help him."

"_Alright__.__ We__'__ll go get Miranda and meet you at the same place we dropped you off__.__ Be careful__."_

Drake strapped the radio back onto his belt and released the parachute from his back. Ambessa had reached Vincent, and the fight had begun. It looked like an almost comedic game of cat and mouse, with Vincent dodging the massive man's attacks and Ambessa effortlessly pursuing him. Drake knew that, like a game of cat and mouse, Ambessa was just playing with Vincent. Soon he would actually start fighting. Then Vincent wouldn't stand a chance.

Drake started picking his way across the rooftops, scrambling as fast as he could. Vincent pulled out his rifle, but Ambessa yanked it out of his hands and tossed it over the edge of the roof. He grabbed Vincent by the shirt, lifted him, and threw him into a scaffold. The rickety pipes and wood collapsed on top of Vincent, and Drake started running faster. Ambessa strode over to the collapsed scaffolding when suddenly Vincent jumped up with one of the pipes in his hand.

Drake stopped, unsure of what route he should take. He was a few rooftops away, but there was no clear path to the roof Vincent and Ambessa were on. He looked over to see how his friend was holding up and was surprised to see that Vincent was successfully using the metal pipe to fight Ambessa; he kept beating the larger man further back and down with the pipe. Ambessa was only able to block the assault, and therefore could not fight back against Vincent.

"Keep holding up Vincent. I'm coming." Drake whispered as he started scaling the building he was on to a higher point. A cable connected the roof of this building to the one next to it, and Drake noticed from there he could climb on top of Cazenove and Co. Ltd. from which he would be able to get to the roof where Vincent was. As Drake reached the cable, he used his pistol to slide along it, rolling onto the next building. He climbed up to the top of Cazenove and saw Vincent still beating Ambessa.

As Drake started running over, Ambessa grabbed the pipe Vincent was swinging and used the pipe to pull Vincent closer to him. Vincent was caught off balance and toppled forward towards Ambessa, who drove his fist into Vincent's face. Vincent immediately crumpled, and Ambessa reached down to lift him up.

"Ambessa!" Drake shouted out. Ambessa turned towards Drake and smiled maliciously, dropping Vincent as he opened his arms to Drake.

"So, Nathan, you've come back to save your friend?" Ambessa asked walking towards Drake.

"Don't move, asshole." Drake said, pointing his gun at Ambessa. The man froze with his arms still half-raised into the air. He remained perfectly still as he stared at Drake.

"Why don't you just kill me now?" He asked

"If I remember correctly, I owe you one from back in Austria." Drake said, staring at Ambessa. He very badly wanted to kill the traitor, but he knew he couldn't. He had at least some kind of honor.

Ambessa just smirked, but didn't see Vincent slowly rise to his feet behind him. Vincent raised the metal pipe, and brought it down full force on Ambessa's head. Ambessa dropped to his hands and knees, crying out. Despite his pain, he turned back around just as Vincent was planning to strike again. He grabbed the descending pipe and stood up. Pulling Vincent closer, he fastened his hand around the young man's neck.

"Seun van 'n teef!" Ambessa shouted. Drake took aim at Ambessa, but with Vincent in the crossfire he couldn't take the shot.

"Mason, maybe we could talk about this?" Vincent gasped as Ambessa lifted him a few feet off the ground.

"You are truly becoming a nuisance, Mr. Fawkes!" Ambessa said angrily as Vincent clawed at his throat, gasping for air. "I knew we should not have asked Jozeph to kill you. He is long past his military prime. It should have been my job!" Ambessa lowered Vincent and pulled him close so that they were face to face. "But don't worry; I'll finish what he started!"

With all of his inhuman strength, Ambessa hurled Vincent into the air. Vincent landed on the other side of the roof, rolled several feet, then slid over the edge.

"Vincent!" Drake cried out. Ambessa turned to face him and Drake squeezed off a shot. The bullet clipped Ambessa's shoulder, and the man quickly ducked behind an AC unit for cover. Drake kept his pistol aimed at where Ambessa was hiding, and prepared to shoot on sight. Seething with rage, he walked forward, abandoning his own safety out of need to make Ambessa pay.

"Nate!"

Drake paused and turned toward the edge of the building where Vincent had toppled over, and saw a pair of hands clinging to the edge.

"Help me!"

"Your friend is still alive, Mr. Drake." Ambessa said, still hiding behind the unit he was using for cover. "And now it seems you have to make a choice."

"Nate, I can't hold on!"

"You must consider what is more important: killing me, or saving Vincent."

Drake stood still, momentarily stunned by indecision. A second ago, all he cared about was killing Ambessa. Part of him still said that was all that mattered.

"Nathan!"

Vincent's urgent call snapped Drake out of his reverie. He holstered the gun and sprinted to the edge of the roof. He dove and slid, extending his arm and catching Vincent's just as the young man lost his grip and started to fall.

"I got you buddy!" Drake groaned, straining under the sudden weight. "Hold on!"

Vincent looked up at Drake, and using his dangling arm reached into his back pocket.

"Here," he said, pulling out his journal and holding it upward. "Just in case anything happens. You'll need it."

"Nothing's going to happen. We'll be fine." Drake said, but took the journal anyway. "Now, give me your other hand."

Vincent swung up his free hand and held on tightly to Drake's arm. Drake started slowly lifting Vincent, when all of the sudden there was the familiar groan of metal and a loud snap. Drake lost his balance as the gutter he had been putting his weight on gave way. He jumped away from the gutter, but Vincent slipped out of his hands and started to fall once more.

Drake cried out, scrambling back to the ledge. The gutter had come partially undone, half still clinging to the ledge and the other half dangling in the air. Vincent was holding on for dear life to the dangling half.

"Harry was right; you really do have shitty luck!" Vincent shouted at Drake. Vincent started shimmying up the pipe which groaned under his weight and bent slightly lower.

"Nate, there's a fire escape that I think I can get to. Do you see it?" Vincent called, still slowly making his way up the pipe. Drake shook his head as he tried peering over the ledge.

"No, I can't see it. The ledge extends too far."

"Ok, well, I'm gonna try for it." Vincent called back. Drake took a moment to look over his shoulder and wasn't surprised to find that Ambessa was nowhere to be seen. Drake looked back over the edge, and watched as Vincent slowly shimmied his way under the ledge. The gutter was making a louder groaning sound, and Drake could tell it was about to snap.

"Almost got it…" Vincent muttered. Drake could still hear him, but could no longer see him given that he was now under the protruding ledge. With a final groan, the gutter gave way and snapped, falling all thirteen stories to the pavement below. Drake now noticed for the first time that people were beginning to accumulate at the base of the building, and sirens were blaring like crazy through the streets. The police would be arriving in just a few minutes.

"Vincent, you ok?" Drake called out, and after a seconds pause he got a response.

"Yeah, just peachy. Sore as all hell, but alive."

Drake listened as another noise was heard from below, like someone jumping on the fire escape.

"Did you miss me?"

Drake's spine tingled with fear. It was Ambessa. He was on the fire escape. There was a loud thud and groan of pain, and Drake assumed Vincent had been thrown against a wall. He badly wished he could at least see what was happening, but could only stand by and listen to the assault.

"Piet wants your journal. Hand it over." Ambessa said, and there was only silence. "The journal, Mr. Fawkes!"

Drake listened and was sure he heard a small chuckle come from Vincent.

"Well isn't that ironic." Vincent whispered softly. There was another loud thud of a body being slammed against the wall, then the recognizable noise of a fist slamming into a man's gut.

"Where is it?" Ambessa yelled. Still, only silence from Vincent. Drake struggled to look over the edge of the roof, hoping to catch sight of Ambessa so that he might be able to save Vincent from impending death.

"Fine." Ambessa said, and Drake sensed a hint of mocking mixed with the man's anger. "If I cannot bring Piet your journal, I will just have to bring you. This will be a very painful experience for you, Mr. Fawkes. I hope you find that protecting your little journal was worth it."

Drake heard Ambessa's receding footsteps and turned, rushing to the stairwell that led into the building. He sprinted through and ran onto the fire escape.

"Ambessa!' Drake shouted, running back into the building. "Vincent!" He cried, hoping to hear a response. Still, there was nothing. They were gone.

Drake ran downstairs, and burst out onto the street. People crowded the sidewalk, looking at him in shock. Police were now marching onto the scene, trying to push pedestrians out of the road and away from traffic. Drake looked for Ambessa's large frame, but could see nothing through the throng of people. Drake started pushing through the crowd when he heard a woman's voice call his name. It was Miranda, waving to him several feet away from the edge of the crowd. Drake kept pushing his way through the mass of spectators, his eyes continuously scanning for Ambessa or Vincent. By the time he reached Miranda, Flynn, and Sully, he knew it was too late. Vincent was gone.

"Nate! Oh Nate, thank god you're alive!" Miranda said wrapping her arms around him. He staggered under her weight, suddenly feeling too tired to stand or speak.

"Thought we had lost you up there with Vincent." Sully chuckled, slapping him on the shoulder. Miranda pulled out of the hug, looking around confused.

"Wait, where _is_ Vincent?" She asked, looking all around. Drake leaned against the car and slumped down.

"Ambessa has him…" He whispered. Frustration and anger flooded him, but there was nothing he could do.

"What?" Flynn cried out striding over to Drake. "What do you mean Ambessa has him? He was our only lead on where we might find this bloody sword, and now not only is he gone, but helping van Meer?"

"Goddamn it Nate, what happened up there?" Sully asked, sitting next to Drake. Miranda hadn't moved but just stared at him in silence.

"There was nothing I could do." Drake whispered, the rage inside of him building up. "We got separated and Ambessa got a hold of him. I tried to find them, but they're gone."

Flynn was walking in circles, glancing around nervously as more police started to show up.

"Ok, this sucks. But we need to get out of here." He said, opening the car door. "We can talk more at the hotel, but if we stay here we risk getting arrested. And there's no way we can help Vincent from prison."

Drake nodded and climbed into the car, his eyes glazed over and his body slow and cumbersome. Sully and Miranda had the same general air of defeat. The car ride back to the hotel was silent, although after 10 minutes, Drake felt the need to voice the thought that had been burning in his mind since the car ride began.

"He did give me his journal though." Drake said out loud. Everybody in the car turned to look at him in surprise, even Sully who was driving. The result was a near head on collision with another car, which Sully luckily avoided at the last second. He pulled over on the side of the road and turned back to Drake.

"What do you mean you have his journal?" Sully barked, face still red from the adrenaline rush.

"Just before Ambessa kidnapped him, Vincent handed me his journal for safe-keeping." Drake explained, pulling it out of his pocket and handing it to Miranda. She flipped through it and stopped on the last page. Her eyes scanned it and she looked confident.

"We need to get to a library." She ordered to Sully. "I think I can find out where we need to go next." Sully nodded and turned the car back onto the road. Miranda stared at the journal, closing it and clutching it to her chest. For her, it was all that was left of her brother.

"What are you thinking?" Drake asked, leaning over to her.

"The inscription that Vincent translated." She explained. "If it's referencing what I think it's referencing, then I know where to go." She paused and closed her eyes, a single tear rolling out from the corner of her eye. "I just hope we get there before van Meer does."

_**Author's Notes: It's been one month since my first upload, and we sure have come a long way! I hope you are all enjoying how the story has developed. There is more to come, so keep on reading and reviewing! The reviews have been great, so thank you all so very much. In a few days I'll put up Chapter 7, another research-heavy chapter that will finally point Drake in the right direction.**_


	9. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

The London Library was not far away, only about a 20 minute drive from the hotel. Sully had driven straight to the library from the Cazenove headquarters and parked out front. The building was small and quaint, looking like just another office building. It was on the corner of Saint James Square, and faced the park; which was full of people out and about enjoying the beautiful day and time with their family and friends. Drake was deeply envious. But there was no time to be envious of relaxation. There was no time for anything but finding out how they might be able to save Vincent.

Miranda led the way into the library and Drake found that it lived up to its incredible reputation. The library had been founded in 1841, and now came to house over one million volumes, and all of them were able to be taken out and examined at will. That was Miranda's main reason for choosing this library. They would be able to look at any book they wanted and, if they needed to, they could take any book to the hotel to examine further. They quickly found an isolated table for themselves and Miranda pulled out Vincent's notebook.

"Alright, so on the last page he wrote down what you guys said was inscribed on the sarcophagus, right?" She said, looking at Flynn and Drake for confirmation. Drake nodded his head, but Flynn thought for a moment.

"Well, it wasn't really _on_ the sarcophagus so much as _in_ it." He explained, trying to choose his words carefully. "It was more like where the body and sword had been, someone had come in after and carved it. At least that's what I gather."

Drake agreed with him and Miranda took a few moments to think about these new details.

"Actually, that would make more sense." She said, and turned the journal so that the others could read what Vincent had written. "Look here. He wrote the inscription and its translation. It says '_Unde Conditus__.__ Ubi mortui iacere alto__.__ Sequere cor_'which he translated to mean 'Where it was created. Where the dead lie on high. Follow the heart'. So what does that sound like to you?"

"A load of rubbish." Flynn said, shrugging.

"They're clues." Sully said, leaning forward. "Like a scavenger hunt, right?"

"Yeah, you could call it that." Miranda said, nodding. "But these are clues to the actual clues. It's the kind of thing that a person would leave behind so that only somebody who knew what they meant could follow his or her trail. Someone like a descendant or fellow believer of a certain faith."

"So what about these? Can we figure it out?" Drake asked, looking over the clues again. Miranda nodded again, and flipped to a blank page in the journal. She wrote at the top "Where it was created".

"So, we know that what we are looking for is Crocea Mors, which was Caesar's sword. So, how did Caesar get the sword?"

Everybody at the table shrugged. A week ago they had no idea what Crocea Mors was. They were far from the experts.

"To be honest," Miranda continued "I have no idea either. So let's start at the basics. Crocea Mors is supposedly made of Corinthian Bronze." She turned to Sully and put on a very sweet smile. "Sully, darling, could you please see if they have Pliny the Elder's _Naturalis Historia_?" Sully smiled and stood up, placing his hand on Miranda's shoulder.

"Anything for you. I'll be right back."

Flynn and Drake looked at Miranda, who shrugged.

"You do realize that he is smart enough to figure out if you're playing him." Drake said. Miranda laughed and shook her head.

"I'm not playing him! I just tease him, and I am pretty sure he knows that." Drake shrugged and leaned back.

"Why do we need _Naturalis Historia_?" Flynn asked.

"Well, at the moment it is the best account we have of Corinthian Bronze. I'd like to figure out everything I can about it." Miranda explained. Just then, Sully returned with the book and laid it on the table.

"Here you go, gorgeous."

"Thank you, sweetie."

Miranda opened up the book and flipped through it, murmuring to herself. Drake, Flynn, and Sully sat patiently yet expectantly.

"Damn it." Miranda whispered, and looked up at them. "All he says is that it was formed during the destruction of Corinth. I can't assume anything from that."

Miranda laid back and ran a hand through her hair, the same way her brother did. She swore under her breath and let out a sigh.

"I have no idea what to do…"

Drake stood up and Miranda looked at him questioningly.

"Well we can't give up that easily." He said, shrugging. "They have a search database here. If I use that, I can find a book that discusses the destruction of Corinth."

Without another word, he turned and walked away. He felt a little bit of sweat run down his back as he reached the database computer and booted it up. The pressure was beginning to get to him.

_I really hope I find something_. _It would be horrible to have gotten their hopes up then return empty handed_.

Fortunately, it only took a few minutes for Drake to find a match, and he quickly wrote down the number and started searching the aisles. He was looking for Florus's _Epitome of Roman History_. According to the database, the destruction of Corinth was discussed in Book two, Chapter 16.

As Drake strode down the aisles he brushed his hands over the large books and read the titles. As he was walking, he saw out of the corner of his eye someone also walking down the aisle. He turned and saw that it was a man dressed in an all-black suit. The man was looking directly at him and was standing a bit close. And walking closer. Drake felt his heart rate increase and his fists clenched. The man walked closer and was almost alongside him. Drake felt every muscle tense up in anticipation.

The black-suited man reached Drake, nodded to him, and wished him a good afternoon. He then continued walking down the aisle. Drake released the tension in his body and shook his head. He was being ridiculous. Not every guy in an all-black suit was trying to kill him.

Drake found Florus's book and quickly hurried back to the table. He set down the large book and Flynn gave him an incredulous look.

"So, what, did you just grab the biggest book you could find and hoped for the best?" Flynn asked, staring at the epitome. The particular edition Drake had grabbed included all four books, and was massive.

"Eh." Drake said with a shrug. It was fun to mock Flynn by acting mysterious. Drake opened the volume and flipped to book two, running his finger down the table of contents until he found chapter 16: The Achaean War.

"I'd take notes if I were you." He said to Miranda, who gave him a mocking salute and prepared to copy down what he read.

"_As though that age could only run its course by the destruction of cities__,__ the ruin of Carthage was immediately followed by that of Corinth__,__ the capital of Achaea__,__ the glory of Greece__,__ set for all men to behold between the Ionian and Aegean seas__.__ This city__,__ by an act unworthy of the Romans__,__ was overwhelmed before it could be accounted in the number of their declared enemies__.__ The cause of the war was the action of Critolaus__,__ who used against the Romans the liberty which they themselves had granted__,__ and insulted the Roman ambassadors__,__ certainly by his words and perhaps also by personal violence__.__ The task of vengeance was therefore entrusted to Metellus__,__ who just at the time was settling matters in Macedonia__.__ Thus the Achaean war began__.__ First of all the consul Metellus defeated the forces of Critolaus all along the Alpheus in the wide plains of Elis__.__ The war was thus finished by a single battle__,__ and a siege already threatened the city itself__;__ but — so fate decreed — though Metellus had fought the battle__,__ Mummius interposed to reap the fruits of the victory__.__ He completely routed the army of the other general__,__ Diaeus__,__ in the very neck of the Isthmus and dyed the twin harbors with blood__.__ The city__,__ deserted by its inhabitants__,__ was first plundered and then destroyed at a signal given by trumpets__.__ What a vast quantity of statues__,__ garments and pictures was carried off__,__ burnt__,__ and thrown away__!__ How great was the wealth which was plundered or burnt may be judged from the fact that we are told that all the Corinthian bronze__-__work__,__ which enjoys so high a repute throughout the world__,__ was a survival from the conflagration__.__ For the damage inflicted on this rich city in itself caused a higher value to be placed upon Corinthian bronze__,__ because__,__ by the melting together of countless statues and images by the flames__,__ brass__,__ gold and silver ore were fused into one common mass__._" Drake looked at Miranda and smiled. "Got all that?"

Miranda scowled at Drake and grabbed the epitome away from him. She quickly scanned the page with her eyes and started writing in the notebook. Sully pulled out a cigar, and a librarian seemed to magically appear behind him, informing him he was not allowed to smoke in the library.

"Every goddamn time…" Sully grumbled, putting the cigar back in his pocket as Flynn laughed at him.

Drake was waiting for Miranda to finish her note-taking when he felt a tingling sensation on the back of his neck and turned around. Behind them was the suited man who had passed him in the aisle. The man gave Drake a wave, and Drake awkwardly waved back. Another man in a suit joined him, and the two walked to another part of the library. Drake looked and saw another pair of similarly black suited men walking along a different aisle. There was another pair upstairs. He felt himself tense up again, and this time he couldn't shake the suspicion.

"Ok, so I think I have a pretty good understanding of this excerpt." Miranda said, and Drake turned back to her, forgetting about the men for the moment. "So, Florus references several things. The destruction of Carthage, several generals, and the formation of Corinthian Bronze." Miranda looked up at Drake and smiled. "Well done, Nate. You really made the right choice here."

"What can I say, I have a knack for these things." Drake said, shrugging.

"Alright, enough flirting, you two." Flynn cut in sarcastically. "Let's get back to the matter at hand, yes?" Miranda nodded and returned to her notes.

"So Carthage fell in 146 B.C. at the end of the Third Punic War. It was destroyed by Scipio Aemilianus. In Corinth, Mummius is the one who raided the city and actually formed the Corinthian Bronze."

"So does this answer where we can find the sword?" Sully asked.

"Kind of." Miranda said, flipping through Vincent's notebook. "We now know when and where Corinthian Bronze was formed. But we need to find out where this particular sword was forged and given to Caesar. So thanks to Vincent's research, I can go through Caesar's history and see if there is any point after 146 B.C. that Caesar was in or near Corinth."

"And what if he wasn't?" Drake asked. Miranda simply looked at him and didn't say a word. She didn't need to. If Miranda couldn't make a link with Caesar and Corinth, they would have nothing.

Miranda continued flipping through the journal and Sully went outside to smoke a cigar. Drake got up and started walking around the library to look at some of the volumes they had, leaving Flynn and Miranda at the table.

Drake was strolling down an aisle with biological reference encyclopedias and quickly turned to another one. That was just a headache waiting to happen. He kept walking and re-entered the history section. He stopped when he saw _Travels to the Equinoctial Regions of America_ by Alexander Humboldt. He recognized the title and opened it up, reading through the table of contents. There was a chapter about El Dorado, and Drake turned to it, amusing himself by reading through the accounts of the previous explorer's theories.

A movement to the side caught Drake's attention, but nobody was there. Drake returned the book and walked down to where he had seen the movement and looked around the corner. He caught a glimpse of one of the black-suited men turning down another aisle. He turned back around and saw another man now looking at the volume Drake had been looking at. Drake turned and walked down an aisle, not surprised to see another lounging man in a black-suit. He hurried back to the table and sat down.

"Guys, I think we need to hurry up." He whispered. Miranda looked up at him with worry and Flynn looked at him in confusion.

"What's up mate?"

"I don't know. I'm just on edge. I just want to get out of here as soon as we can. Have we made progress?" Drake asked, turning to Miranda.

"So, we looked for any time that Caesar was near Corinth after 146 B.C." Miranda said, now talking nervously. "Caesar had returned in 44 B.C. to reform the destroyed city, but that's way too late because he had lost the sword in 54 B.C. Unfortunately, he had never visited Corinth before then."

"So that's it…" Drake said softly. But Miranda shook her head.

"Not exactly. My brother wrote here that Caesar had returned with the premise of rebuilding the city, but was actually _looking_ for something. Something he never found."

"A replacement blade?" Drake asked.

"Our thoughts exactly." Flynn responded. "See, Vincent thought the same thing, but the problem is that Caesar never went to Corinth. However, Cilician pirates did." Drake eyes widened with realization.

"Julius Caesar was kidnapped by Cilician pirates in 75 B.C." He said, the pieces quickly coming together in his head. "You think the pirates had the sword?"

"Well, apparently that's what we're hoping." Miranda said with a smile. "When Caesar caught back up with them and executed them, he took all of their possessions. That would include the sword."

"So, while Caesar was with the pirates he learned the sword was forged from Corinthian Bronze? It sparks his military career, but when he loses it he goes back to Corinth so that he might be able to get a new sword. But obviously he couldn't get one. So it was just that one blade, now lost forever." Drake summarized, looking at Miranda and Flynn. "Is that it?" Miranda and Flynn nodded, and Drake paused for a moment.

"So now that we now know for sure that the sword was forged in Corinth, what about the second part? 'Where the dead lay on high'. What does that mean?" Drake asked.

"Oh that's easy, Miranda here figured it out in less than a minute." Flynn said, gesturing for Miranda to explain. She nodded and leaned forward.

"So, in Corinth there is a rather well-known acropolis by the name of 'the Acrocorinth', or 'Upper Corinth'. It has been constantly occupied since archaic times, and has been constantly built and rebuilt. It has been used as a catacomb, fort, temple, Christian church, and recently, a mosque. But the point is, it is the highest point in Corinth where many people are buried. As a matter of fact, most of the people killed during the Battle of Corinth were buried up there, so soldiers couldn't take away the bodies."

Drake thought to himself and leaned back, his mind wrapping around the situation.

"So the sword is at the Acrocorinth in the city of Corinth? In Greece?" He asked.

"Yeah, I know right?" Flynn said sarcastically. "I feel like we spend more money travelling around the world than we actually earn from the job."

"That's beside the point, Harry." Drake said. "We are getting the sword and, if we get a chance to, saving Vincent." Drake opened up his laptop and started pulling up airlines. After a few minutes, he had purchased four tickets to take them to Tripolis Airport in the city of Tripolis, 78.3 kilometers Southwest of Corinth.

"Alright, I just bought us tickets to get us to Corinth. The flight leaves tonight." He paused for a moment as he checked his email and his brow furrowed in confusion. "I have an email from van Meer…"

"What's it say?" Flynn asked, coming around behind him.

"Nothing." Drake murmured, scrolling through the email. "Just a link to a video." Drake clicked on the link and started watching the video. Both Drake and Flynn's faces turned to shock then sickness. Flynn walked away and Drake shut the laptop.

"What was it?" Miranda asked. Drake looked at Flynn, who nodded, then looked back to Miranda.

"It was a video of Vincent…" Drake said, feeling a shudder run through his body "Being tortured."

Miranda paled and Drake opened his laptop. The video was still running, and went on for several more minutes. He looked away and felt tears come to his eyes. The torture was severe and nearly unbearable.

"Nate! Look at the video." Flynn said urgently. Drake looked and saw it was no longer a video of Vincent's torture, but now of van Meer talking. He rewound the video to where van Meer first appeared, and turned on the volume.

"_So__,__ Dhr__.__ Drake__,__ Dhr__.__ Flynn__,__ and whomever else it may concern__;__ as you can see here we are having quite a lot of fun with Dhr__.__ Fawkes__.__ Although I must admit__,__ we were very disappointed to learn he did not have his journal with him__.__ And yet__,__ you should be very proud of him__.__ We have been torturing him as you have seen here__,__ for a very long time__.__ But his will remains strong__!__ Even now__,__ he refuses to reveal what he has learned or where we might find the sword__.__ Rather disappointing__.__ We did__,__ however__,__ get the translation of the inscription__.__ As of now__,__ it means nothing__.__ And as long as Dhr__.__ Fawkes refuses to cooperate__,__ I feel like we will not be able to solve the puzzle for quite some time__.__ So__,__ I just wanted you to see the kind of pain your friend is in__.__ If you email us the location of the blade__,__ we will gladly meet you there and hand you Dhr__.__ Fawkes__.__ However__,__ if you do nothing__,__ he will die__.__ It is as simple as that__,__ really__.__ We will eventually find the sword__'__s location__,__ but out of consideration of timeliness__,__ we need you to help us__,__ to help your friend__.__ You know what to do__.__ Afscheid__,__ Dhr__.__ Drake and associates__!__ I will see you soon__._"

The video shut down, and Drake stared at the screen. Flynn walked over and closed the computer.

"Come on, mate. Don't even bother with that." He said, lifting Drake to his feet. "You heard him, Vincent's holding up. If we get that sword, we have something to bargain with. The sooner we get it, the better." Drake nodded slowly, then with more vigor. His eyes lit up and he turned to Miranda, who was already on her feet and ready.

"Let's go." She said angrily. Drake nodded and he and Flynn turned to exit. But they had only walked a few feet when the eight men in black suits came out from the aisles and blocked their way. Drake immediately realized that his fears had been accurate, and he turned to Flynn, who had come to the same conclusion.

The men put up their hands to stop the three, but Drake and Flynn moved forward and in one fluid motion punched the men. After a few seconds of fighting, they were able to escape from the fight. Drake, Flynn, and Miranda ran towards the entrance of the library just as Sully walked in.

"What the hell?"

But before anyone could offer an explanation, the group grabbed Sully and dragged him out the door. The librarian behind the front desk yelled something, but nobody really heard what he said. The group sprinted out to the car, and Drake pushed Sully into the driver's seat.

"Who the hell are these guys?" Sully barked back, pulling the car out of its parking spot and speeding down the street.

"We have no idea. They attacked us in Vienna, but they don't work for van Meer. They might be one of his competitors or something." Drake explained, looking out the back window of the car and watching for any pursuers.

"Well what the hell do they want with us? We don't work with him anymore!" Sully yelled back, sharply turning down a tight alleyway.

"They must have lost track of van Meer and are using us to catch up with him." Flynn said, still struggling to buckle his seat belt. He finally clicked it and looked at Drake. "Mate, if they're against van Meer, shouldn't we help them?"

"They tried to kill us. Call me resentful, but I hold that against them." Drake said with a shrug. Flynn chuckled just as Sully pulled out of the alleyway, hitting the rear bumper on the ground as he sped into the street.

"Jesus, Sully, who taught you how to drive?" Drake asked, holding tightly to his seat. "I have a very good reputation with the rental car company, and would love to keep it that way." Sully slowed the car and turned to look at Drake.

"Would you rather we get gunned down by those assholes following us?" He asked, and Drake jabbed a thumb behind him.

"Excuse me Dirty Harry, but nobody has been following us."

Sully looked out the back window, shrugged, and turned back to look at the street. After half an hour of mockingly careful driving, they arrived at the hotel.

* * *

><p>There were still a few hours before the plane left, so everybody went to their beds to sleep a bit. Drake wasn't able to sleep, however. He laid in bed staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying the video of Vincent's torture. After an hour or so of naps interrupted by nightmares, Drake gave up on sleep and walked out into the main room of their suite. He wandered into the small kitchen to grab cup of water and cool down, his body drenched in sweat from his night terrors. Miranda walked out and joined him, taking a glass of water for herself. She watched him for a few minutes before finally speaking.<p>

"I don't really understand you, Nathan. You're a treasure hunter, renown for being able to steal anything and kill anyone that gets in your way. But here you are losing sleep over a man who you've just met. I don't understand."

Drake looked at her for a moment and thought about the question. It was a very good point, and he realized that he had never spent time thinking about how he appeared to archaeologists or the general public. But his reputation was that of a greedy and violent, yet effective, treasure hunter.

"I guess my job has a stigma." He said. "I love history and archaeology, but I haven't exactly lived a privileged life. I lost a lot to get to where I am. But I learned that more valuable than any treasure is the people around you."

"Corny, but acceptable." Miranda said with a smile. Her smiles weren't crooked and boyish like Vincent's, but adorable with a hint of mischief. "When you say people around you, you're talking about Sully and Flynn, right?" Miranda asked. Drake chuckled and filled up his cup, drinking more water as he pondered.

"Well, I've known Sully since I was a kid. He really helped me out, and is also the one who pretty much 'trained' me, you could say. A greedy, perverted bastard, sure. But I love him to death. And I know that, despite what he would say, he has morals that withstand any greed. As for Flynn, well we've been through a lot together, but he's always more along for the ride. Don't get me wrong, he is my friend and I like the guy, but when I talk about Sully's morals, I feel like Flynn just doesn't have that. He'd sell anyone or anything out for a price. Even me." Drake shrugged and finished his water. Behind him, lurking in the shadows of the doorway, Flynn stood silently. Neither Drake nor Miranda had seen him walk in, and neither saw him sulk out, head down and hands shoved in his pockets.

"I like you and your brother." Drake continued, tipping his glass to Miranda. "Quite a bit actually. Hopefully this job is not the end of our friendship." He smiled and Miranda came over, wrapping her arms around him. She laid her head on his shoulder and Drake draped his arm around her.

"He's gonna be ok?" She whispered and Drake nodded slowly, feeling the burning heat of the video come back into his mind.

"He'll be fine." Drake said, trying to hide the shaking in his voice. "Maybe a little bruised, but he is a strong guy and I know he'll be fine."

Miranda leaned up and kissed him on the cheek then walked out of the room. Drake pensively sat for a moment, then wandered back into his room to start packing his clothes. The plane to Tripolis would be leaving in a little over an hour.

_**Authors Notes: So, how do we feel about chapter 8? Another break from the action, so not too exciting, and with a bit of sadness tossed in to make things a bit dramatic. Vincent is pretty tough, but we can't underestimate van Meer's wickedness. And poor Flynn, hopefully I am rousing a little bit of sympathy? Leave reviews for me, let me know what you think! Thank you all for reading and reviewing, and stay tuned for Chapter 9 where Drake goes back to the source of Corinthian Bronze and closer to the Crocea Mors.**_


	10. Chapter 9

_**CHAPTER 9**_

The trip to Corinth was a smooth but confusing one. When Drake, Flynn, Sully, and Miranda had arrived at the London City Airport, they immediately noticed that a group of Operatives were following them. But it seemed that the Operatives were not looking to confront them, and Drake knew that it would only delay his plans if he were to confront them. So, despite the awkwardness, he ignored the Operatives. Sully, Flynn, and Miranda also tried ignoring the men, but when the Operatives were waiting at the same gate as them it was almost unbearable. They were all relieved when they boarded the plane and the Operatives stayed behind, simply watching as they boarded.

It was, needless to say, a shock when the group landed at the Tripolis Airport and found a group of Operatives already there, waiting and watching them. These Operatives did not follow them, however, but simply disappeared after the group piled into their new rental car and began the two hour drive to Corinth.

The city they were driving to was actually called Old Corinth. New Corinth was the modern day city that had been built nearby Old Corinth, which was destroyed by an earthquake in the 1800's. For Drake, Sully, Flynn, and Miranda, all that meant was less civilians to worry about.

As they reached the ruins of the old city, the group was immediately able to pick out the Acrocorinth. This was not difficult; the spectacular acropolis was its own city on the top of a mountain that rose behind Corinth. The climb up would be a difficult one, and Drake turned to Flynn and pointed accusingly at him.

"No complaining." He said sternly "I don't want to hear a single word about how hot it is, or how steep it is, or how tired you are."

"Hey, mate, give me some credit!" Flynn said back, raising his arms in defense and making his voice sound hurt. Drake shook his head and the group made their way up to the top of the Acrocorinth.

"Miranda, what exactly are we looking for?" Sully asked when they were about halfway up. They had already passed a few small ruins and were nearing the giant gate and wall that surrounded the pseudo-city.

"Anything that might involve Caesar, a heart, or something else along those lines." She said, taking out Vincent's journal and flipping through it. "Something that would have been left as a clue where to look for anyone pursuing the sword." Sully nodded and they entered the gate set in the wall. They were on the north side of the acropolis, and it spanned out before them rising higher still. They spread out and started searching.

"It would be low, near the wall, where the architecture is the oldest." Miranda called out to the others as they walked around the area.

"Hey, I've got something!" Drake called out, and everybody rushed over to him. Drake was standing in front of a small decrepit hut set into the wall, and pointing at the doorway.

"What is it?" Flynn asked, closely inspecting the door frame.

"Above it. Carved into the wall." Drake said and Flynn raised his eyes.

"Oh I see it. What the bloody hell is it?" He asked, looking at the carving. It was a small, lightly done inscription of eight lines, four on top and four on bottom surrounding a dot, making an eight-pointed star shape. One of the lines on top looked like it was on fire and written on either side of the dot, between the lines, was DIVVS IVLIVS.

"It's the Star of Caesar, or Caesar's Comet." Drake explained, shrugging. "Either one works."

"This has got to be it." Miranda said, searching the hut's ruins and the wall around it.

"The Comet is an actual comet, not just a coinage like it is here." Drake continued to explain to Flynn, who was now joining Miranda. "It received its name because during a celebration of Caesar in 44 B.C.E., four months after he was killed, it rose for the first time and shone for a full seven days. Everybody believed it was Caesar's soul deified." Drake said, standing on a rock to get on eye level with the carving and inspect it closer. "By the end of the Octavian Wars, Augustus had accepted the star as a representation of the Deified Caesar and used it more on coins, often depicting Caesar with this star shape above his head. The words on the side are Divus Julius, meaning Deified Julius. There was a cult following of Caesar who believed he was an actual god. It became very popular which is probably why Augustus minted the coins." Drake said, not quite realizing that nobody was listening to him.

"Kid, that's all very nice and poetic, but help us find the entrance, will ya?" Sully barked as he tried to move a large stone that covered a portion of the wall. Drake sighed and leapt off the rock, landing on the wooden floor of the hut. Or, rather, through the floor.

Drake caught himself just in time and pulled himself out of the hole he had created in the floor.

"You guys are so slow." He said as he straightened up and dusted his shirt off. "I was looking for literally two seconds and I found it."

"Shut up…" Sully grumbled, wiping the sweat from his forehead and massaging his lower back. The others walked over and peered down, staring into the darkness of the pit. Miranda shone her flashlight down into the hole and a floor could be seen several feet down.

"This is it." She whispered in awe, and there was a few moments of silence as everyone gazed into the chasm. Too far to drop, but they had brought a rope just in case. Flynn tied it to the large stone Sully had been trying to move while Sully lit up a fresh cigar as he prepared a foothold on the other end of the rope.

"Ladies first." Sully said, handing the rope to Miranda. She looped her foot through the rope and was gently lowered into the hole. When she reached the bottom, she gave two solid tugs and Flynn pulled the rope back up.

"Who's next?" He asked, and Drake stepped forward.

"I'll go." He said, looping his foot through the rope the same way Miranda had. Flynn slowly started lowering him when suddenly the rope went slack and dropped several feet and jolted to a stop, nearly shaking Drake off.

"Holy shit, Flynn what the hell are you doing up there, you almost killed me!" Drake shouted up.

"The stone came loose!" Flynn called down, his voice strained. "Victor's helping me hold it, I'll try to lower you down." Drake started lowering when the rope went slack again. He heard shouting up above, but couldn't make out what was being said. He hit the ground at the bottom of the hole hard, the wind knocked out of him. Miranda was standing off to the side and shouted at him.

"Nate, look out!"

Drake looked up and saw the stone that the rope was tied to falling fast towards him. He rolled aside just in time, the large stone crashing to where he had been half a second before. Drake stood shakily to his feet, still out of breath. He pulled out his radio and called up to Sully, but there was only static. He turned to Miranda and shrugged.

"Looks like it's just you and me." Drake said, turning to face the gaping tunnel before him. He flicked his flashlight on, illuminating the long downward passage that led them deeper and deeper underground. "Let's get going."

* * *

><p>The tunnel that Miranda and Drake walked through went at a sharp decline, leading deeper into the mountain that supported the Acrocorinth. Soon, the pair reached the first set of graves, set into the wall with inscriptions above each saying the name of each person buried.<p>

"These must be the catacombs." Miranda said in awed surprised. Drake nodded as he examined each of the graves. Most of these graves openly displayed the bodies of those who were kept there. Others were empty, the bodies having long ago decomposed to dirt.

"Nobody has ever seen this place before?" Drake asked, and Miranda shook her head.

"Since it was built over? Probably not." She inspected another grave, one where the body inside was buried with several coins. "This place has never been excavated. Or even raided by the looks of it. We could be the first people to have been down here in thousands of years."

Drake nodded, but remained wary. If this place had not seen human activity for a long time, there was the chance that it would not be able to withstand the sudden appearance of two people.

"Alright Miranda, what are we looking for here?" He called out. The place was huge, and it would take a long time to navigate.

"I'm not sure!" She called back, now jogging to catch up with him. "Anything involving Caesar. Or a heart. Same stuff we were looking for earlier."

Together, they searched throughout the catacombs for anything that might point them in the right direction. It had been almost a full hour, and they had still found nothing. Drake was beginning to lose hope. However, just as he was about to tell Miranda they should head back, something caught his eyes. One of the graves was sealed over with stone, something that the two have them hadn't seen with any of the other graves. Drake went over to inspect the grave, and as he shined his flashlight over the stone he saw a word carved into it. "Καρδιά". It was Greek, maybe somebodies name. Nonetheless, it was still strange enough to deserve a little bit of extra attention.

"Miranda, come look at this!" Drake called out. Miranda walked over from the other end of the cavern and leaned close to the inscription. She turned to look at Drake and smiled, nodding.

"It says heart."

Drake walked around the cavern, anxious from the new discovery. He leaned against a wall and slid down to the ground, placing his head in his hands.

"So behind this wall could be Crocea Mors." He murmured. "I wish Sully could be here. Flynn and Vincent too. This is huge." He stayed on the ground for a few seconds as Miranda inspected the grave further. "How are we even going to get through the wall?" Drake asked, looking down at the floor. "We would need a hammer. Maybe a drill…" Drake was cut off by the sound of Miranda heaving a rock through the wall.

"Well that's one way…" Drake said, staring in awe.

"Come on, slowpoke!" Miranda said, climbing into the hole in the wall.

"What are you doing?" Drake asked in surprise, standing up and walking over to her.

"It's a passage." Miranda explained bluntly before sliding into the hole she had created. Drake climbed in after her and found that behind the grave was a very narrow and much smaller passageway. Because of how steep it was, he slid most of the way and crawled the rest. After a few minutes, the tunnel dropped sharply, and Drake toppled into a large cavern which Miranda was already exploring. He stood and dusted himself off, inspecting several small cuts on his hands and arms. He looked around the relatively plain room which was obviously hollowed out of the stone by hand, constructed much like the catacombs above. Drake looked up and gasped at the ceiling, which sported a massive carving of the Caesar Star. Whoever had built the room had been greatly devoted to Caesar and put a lot of time into its construction.

"Nate, come look at this." Miranda said, and Drake walked over to her. She was sifting through the dirt on the ground, and pointed out to him several shaving of gold, silver, and bronze. The entire floor of the chamber was covered in shavings and dust from the precious metals. He stood up and nodded.

"Looks like we're on the right track." He helped Miranda to her feet and pointed at a passage on the other side of the cavern. "I'm guessing we go that way." He said, walking out of the cavern and into the passage. While there were still metal shavings on the ground, the tunnel was not decorated or carved as well as the cavern and, in some areas, wooden foundations protruded from the rock where erosion had peeled away the walls. Drake once again had the feeling that the entire Acrocorinth was about to crumble on top of them. It had happened to him too many times to count.

The tunnel led to yet another cavern, and Drake's jaw dropped open. This cavern was massive, much bigger than the previous one. But the really incredible thing was what was on the opposite wall. A massive wooden and metal structure was built on the wall, a complex mix of machinery that seemed impossible to have been constructed as long ago as 54 B.C. The machinery was more like a series of large wooden panels that lay on top of the gears. Each wooden panel had a particular shape, and Drake saw that if he maneuvered the pieces properly, the pieces would perfectly fit together like a puzzle. In the middle of the room there was a small panel that was a scaled-down version of the puzzle on the wall, and when Miranda walked over and moved a piece, the corresponding piece moved on the wall. She jumped back in fear and turned to Drake.

"Nate, what is this?"

"A puzzle of some sort…" He responded, standing next to the panel and inspecting it. "I think we have to line up all the pieces."

"Why would they include this?" Miranda asked as Drake began shifting the pieces. "It has nothing to do with Caesar."

"Maybe not…" Drake said, scowling as he rearranged a piece that had not fit where he wanted it. "But I guess they wanted to make sure that whoever got the sword was at least smart enough to figure this out."

He moved it around some more, piecing together most of it while Miranda went off to the side to include the new findings in the journal.

"Huh." Drake said a few minutes later, and Miranda looked up. Drake was standing there, staring at the wall which now had all of the pieces together.

"I did it." He said with a shrug. Miranda stood and walked over, a look of confusion on her face.

"What now?" She asked. Drake pointed to the bottom of the wall, where a small door had been revealed by the wooden pieces.

"Let's try in there." He said, walking over confidently, and pulling open the door.

He stood and stared into the room beyond the door. Miranda rushed over and looked over Drake's shoulder past the doorway.

"Oh." She said disappointedly. It was a disappointed "Oh." Because past the door was a very small room with nothing but a tiny gold box on a pedestal.

"There's no way the sword is in there." She said sadly.

"I know."

"What do we do?"

"We might as well check whatever _is_ in there." Drake said, shrugging as he walked over to the box. He slowly opened the gold box and a look of confusion swept over his face. Eyebrows knitted together and head tilted, he reached into the box and pulled out a small disk which he stared at curiously for several minutes. After a while, Miranda could stand it no longer and walked over to him.

"What is it?" She said sharply. Silently dumbfounded, Drake handed the disk over. Miranda also frowned as she examined the disk. It was small, about the size of her fist, and made of gold like the box and engraved with the same insignia that was above the doorway in the Acrocorinth and on the roof of the large chamber they had walked through. Caesar's Comet.

"Nate, what is this?"

"Well… It's a seal… with Caesar's Comet… and… uh… well…" He thought for a moment then smiled feebly as he gave a shrug of apology. "I honestly have no idea."

Miranda looked over it a few seconds longer then handed it back to Drake. He slid the seal into his pocket and pulled out his radio. He tampered with it and called a few times for Sully, but there was still no response.

"We can't go back out through the catacombs without a rope to help us; we'll never get to the surface." Miranda said as Drake continued his attempts to receive a signal.

"Ok," He said, looking around the chamber. "What about up there?" He said, pointing above the structure. At the point where the wall met the ceiling was a large opening that seemed to lead to another passageway.

"Maybe." Miranda said, gazing up "But how do we get up there?"

Drake turned to her and smiled widely.

"We climb."

* * *

><p>After very careful maneuvering, Miranda and Drake reached the opening in the wall. The passage was large enough for them to fit through easily, and after several minutes they realized that it had initially been used to filter light into the chamber. Now it had been blocked, but after a few kicks and a body slam, Drake toppled through the weak wall and into a sewer.<p>

"Damn it!" He shouted, standing up and shaking his drenched clothes. Miranda giggled softly as she gently stepped through the hole and very carefully avoided stepping in the dirty water.

"Typical Nathan Drake, taking a swimming break while the rest of us are hard at work."

Drake grumbled and made his way to a ladder that led to a manhole, too upset to play the usual witty game. As he shoved the metal cover out of the way, harsh sunlight streamed into the sewer and Drake nearly fell from the ladder as he covered his assaulted eyes. He managed to keep his grip and pulled himself through the manhole, finding himself in the middle of an empty street at the base of the Acrocorinth. He turned to help Miranda out of the sewer, but when he looked up he swore under his breath and ducked behind a small wall to his right, pulling Miranda with him.

"You smell absolutely horrible." She whispered, but he shushed her and peeked over the wall. The center of the ancient city was swarming with van Meer's men, and in the very center was a large tent and convoy of two dozen military trucks. Outside the central tent, Ambessa was barking orders to a group of his men who were moving something. Van Meer and Kroonen stood at the tent's entrance flap and waited for the men. Drake pulled out his binoculars and looked at what the men were carrying and realized it was not something, but someone.

"Vincent…" he whispered to himself

Upon hearing her brother's name, Miranda immediately perked up and glared and Drake.

"What?" She barked, and snatched the binoculars out of his hands, looking at the camp for herself. "Oh my god..." She whispered, her voice wavering as if she were about to cry. Drake couldn't blame her. From the brief look he had gotten, Drake could see that the archaeologist wasn't doing very well. He had been wearing torn and bloodstained clothes, his head was shaved and badly beaten almost beyond recognition. His already thin body was now frail and also badly beaten.

"They're taking him into the tent." Miranda said. She lowered the binoculars and looked at Drake, her eyes red and wet. "Nate, we have to go save him!" She pleaded. As much as it pained Drake, he shook his head.

"We can't. Not yet." He explained. He was surprised to find that his throat was slightly choked up. Somehow, he knew that Vincent was undergoing more torture within the tent. But he knew that his friend had still not betrayed them. Drake cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from Miranda, who had started crying softly. He lifted his radio to his mouth and pressed the talk button.

"Sully, do you read me? Sullivan?"

"_Thank god__,__ Nate__!__ We were beginning to think we__'__d lost you and Miranda for good__!"_

Nate breathed a sigh of relief, realizing just how badly he missed the gruff voice of his friend. Immediately, the situation seemed better.

"Yeah, the connection underground wasn't very good. What happened with the rope? Are you guys ok?"

"_Yeah_." Sully grunted, and there was the sound of slight commotion as the radio changed hands.

"_Hey__,__ Nate__."_ It was Flynn's voice, sounding oddly unenthusiastic. _"__Sorry about the rope__,__ that was my fault__.__ The rock gave way and I couldn__'__t hold it back__.__ Damn thing took out my arm__."_

"_Had to take him to the goddamn hospital because we thought it was broken__."_Sully said after taking the radio back again. _"__They said it was just dislocated and that he__'__s fine__.__ It was real disappointing__.__ How are you guys__?__ Did you find the sword__?"_

"Nope, sorry Sully, no sword. Just a small disk. And we're fine, we just got out from the tunnels."

"_A disk__?__ What the hell does that have to do with anything__?__ And if you__'__re out in the open__,__ watch out__.__ Looks like van Meer caught up with us and his men are all over the place__"._

"I'm not sure. And yeah we just found that out. Where are you guys?"

"_We__'__re in the mosque on top of the Acrocorinth__.__ None of his men are up here yet__,__ so we__'__re pretty safe__."_

Drake dropped his head back and gave an exasperated groan to the sky.

"On our way." He said, buckling the radio back onto his belt. He looked at Miranda, who had wiped away any traces of her crying. Now she looked as strong and defiant as ever. He looked up the large hill which the Acrocorinth topped and turned back to Miranda, giving a weak smile.

"Any chance you can carry me up the mountain?" He asked sweetly.

"Sorry, honey." She said sassily as she walked past and gave his ass an encouraging smack. "You're not gonna be riding me today."

Drake chuckled and shook his head, trudging after Miranda up the mountain.

_**Authors Notes: And so, Drake faces another mystery. What is this disk, and what does it have to do with the Crocea Mors? Can Vincent be saved? And most importantly, can van Meer be stopped? Questions that will all be answered. Up next is chapter 10, where things become difficult as Drake fights to keep his upper hand. Thank you all for reading and reviewing, you keep doing your thing and I'll keep doing mine!**_


	11. Chapter 10

_**CHAPTER 10**_

When Drake and Miranda reached the mosque, they found Flynn and Sully waiting for them next to a car. Sully was puffing on another cigar as he leaned casually against the car, but Flynn was slumped to the floor, his right arm dangling at a slightly off angle. As soon as he saw Drake and Miranda, he stood up and strode over, already apologizing.

"Don't worry about it Harry." Drake cut him off. "It's not your fault. How's your arm?"

"Oh, you know, dislocated." He said, clearly relieved that he was not being held accountable.

"Quit your whining." Sully barked "The doctor fixed you up fine. He said you didn't even need a sling."

"_You_ said I didn't need a sling." Flynn snapped back angrily. "_He_ recommended one!"

"I thought it would slow us down." Sully said, raising his hands defensively. He turned to Drake and gave him a criticizing look. "So what's all this about a disk?"

Drake pulled out the small disk and handed it to Sully, who whistled as he palmed the gold.

"This on its own has got to be worth well more than a pretty penny." He mumbled, turning it over a few times. He nodded slowly and handed it to Flynn who also started inspecting it.

"I think it's not so much a disk as a seal." Drake explained.

"You're right about that." Sully responded. "It is way too big to be a coin and only one side is engraved."

"Not to mention the engraving isn't even an engraving, really." Flynn said, running his thumb over the symbol. "The metal is raised there, not carved. It has got to be intended for pressing into things."

He handed the seal back to Drake, who slipped it back into his pocket.

"So, we agree it's a seal then? Used to press the symbol of Caesar's Comet into… anything?"

Sully and Drake nodded in agreement, but then the three men looked at each other and were silent. They didn't need to say anything to know what each was thinking. They knew the seal was important, but beyond that they knew nothing.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt your riveting conversation." Miranda said as she joined them. "But it looks like van Meer and his men are spreading out and searching the city. Some of them are coming up the mountain and we are right out in the open. Can we please go into some form of cover?"

The men nodded and headed into the mosque. The building was on the highest point of the Acrocorinth and had originally been a temple dedicated to Aphrodite. It was then converted to a church, and later, a mosque. Due to its extensive history, the building was in ruins. Most of the walls were corroded and collapsing, and a section of the roof had entirely collapsed. However, the building had once been large and beautiful with several stories. These multiple floors had collapsed onto each other, leaving a few balconies and staircases. The group was able to find a secluded balcony situated where the second story would have been, providing them a perfect vantage point over the rest of the mosque.

"So where do we go now?" Sully asked. Miranda turned sharply to him, her eyes ablaze.

"We're not going anywhere!" She snapped angrily. "Not while those bastards still have my brother!"

"You've got to be kidding me, right?" Sully asked, smiling as if he truly believed it were a joke. Miranda just looked pissed.

"No, Victor, I'm not kidding." She said, her face stoic and her eyes drilling into him. "He is my brother, and I would much rather save his life then sit around knowing that he is being tortured down there."

"Listen, I like Vincent as much as the next guy-" Sully started, but Miranda cut him off.

"He hasn't betrayed you! He didn't tell van Meer anything! Why else would they be searching so desperately? They don't even know where to start looking! Strictly because he didn't tell them! Because he is defending us! But now you want to leave him for dead? Is that it?" She screamed, tears flowing and her face red. "If you saw him, the way he looks, you wouldn't be such a goddamn coward about-"

"We won't be doing him any good by getting ourselves killed!" Sully barked angrily at her, his face also flushed. Miranda recoiled and looked a little hurt, but she remained defiant. She turned to Drake for support.

"I'm sorry Miranda, but Sully's right." He said sadly, putting a hand on her shoulder. She pushed it off immediately and stared at him in surprise. "We have no guns, and they have an army." He pleaded, but she just kept staring at him.

"Harry?" She implored, turning to Flynn. But Flynn simply shrugged, knowing better than to involve himself in the argument that was raging between them.

Miranda opened her mouth to say something, but Drake covered it with his hand and signaled for them all to drop low. He pointed to the entrance, where a group of Ambessa's soldiers had wandered into the mosque. There were four of them, loosely strolling through the mosque with AK-47's dangling at their sides. Their eyes were skimming the walls and floor, looking for any evidence of the sword or Drake's presence. One of them was directed towards the staircase that led to the balcony Drake, Flynn, Sully, and Miranda were hiding out on. Drake ground his teeth together and clenched his fists, preparing to fight the man. However, as the soldier was halfway up the staircase, a gunshot rang out and the man toppled over the banister and to the floor. The other soldiers stared in disbelief and turned to where the shot was fired. Drake also turned to face the other side of the mosque to see who his mysterious savior was.

At the other entrance of the mosque, the opposite image of Ambessa's soldiers stood. Tightly packed, sharply focused and tactical, a group of Operatives stood in their suits with scoped pistols pointed at the soldiers. Ambessa's men opened fire and moved to cover, but were almost immediately picked off by the highly trained Operatives. Drake and the others held their breaths and waited as the Operatives stood for a moment, then exited the mosque once more.

"Let's get the hell out of here." Drake whispered. The group nodded silently and stealthily moved down the staircase, around the dead soldiers, and out the mosque. They had hardly walked a few steps when the Operatives appeared out of nowhere, circling them and holding the group and gunpoint. Drake, Flynn, Sully, and Miranda raised their hands in surrender, and one of the Operatives stepped forward.

"What did you find in the catacombs?" He said in a heavy Dutch accent. Drake said nothing, wondering if this was the ringleader of the Operatives. Was this van Meer's dangerous and determined competitor?

"I found a lot of dead bodies and dirt." Drake replied, trying to sound innocent. The Operative walked over and grabbed Drake violently by the hair, pulled his head lower, and put his pistol in Drake's mouth.

"Tell me what you found. Or I will kill you." Drake stared into his eyes and saw that the Operative was not bluffing. This man didn't need him alive. Right now, Drake was a convenience who would easily be eliminated if he became inconvenient. He nodded slowly, and the Operative released him, but constantly kept his pistol pointed at Drake's head. After standing up and staring at the Operative for a few seconds, Drake reached into his pocket and pulled out the seal. The Operative held out his hand expectantly and everybody watched in anticipation. Drake glanced at Miranda, who was once again very near tears. She nodded slowly, and Drake placed the seal into the Operatives outstretched hand. Immediately after he did so, however, a loud voice bellowed from within the mosque.

"DRAKE!"

Everybody turned but already knew who it was. Ambessa, surrounded by a large group of his men, walked out of the mosque, his face curved into a scowl of pure rage. He stopped when he saw all of the Operatives and looked confused for a moment. Then the scowl returned. He lifted his pistol and unloaded several rounds into the Operative standing next to Drake. The man dropped dead, and the rest of the Operatives started shooting at Ambessa's men as they retreated. Ambessa signaled for half of his men to pursue the Operatives, and directed the rest of his men to Drake, Flynn, Sully, and Miranda. As the soldiers drew near, Drake pounced on one, Flynn and Sully doing the same. Drake turned to Miranda, who stood unsure of what to do.

"Miranda! Run! Get out now! Go somewhere safe, we'll take care of these guys!" Miranda stood, unresponsive. "GO!" Drake shouted as a rifle butt slammed into his side, then another into his head. Miranda ran to the car and Drake saw two soldiers run after her. Soon, Drake, Flynn, and Sully were forced onto the ground and held at gunpoint. Ambessa towered over them, staring into Drake's eyes. The two soldiers returned and reported that Miranda had escaped in the car, and Ambessa spoke into his radio then clipped it back onto his belt, still locking eyes with Drake.

" So, Nathan Drake. Once more, I find you at my mercy." He said slowly, breathing in deeply through his nose.

"How's that shoulder doing?" Drake asked. Almost immediately, Ambessa's pistol crashed violently into the side of his face. Drake fell to the floor and tasted warm blood in his mouth. Right next to his hand was the hand of the dead Operative, with the seal still in his grasp. As Drake stayed on all fours, he quickly snatched the seal into his own hand. Fortunately, neither Ambessa nor his soldiers noticed. Drake spat his blood on the ground and slowly raised himself back up.

"You know, Nathan, I once found your friend Vincent to be rather obnoxious." Ambessa said, pacing with his hands behind his back. "He just never gave up. But now, I am beginning to admire him for it." He stopped and crouched, leaning close to Drake's face. "It has been a true pleasure torturing him. But you know what? I think you will be even _more_ fun."

"Sorry buddy, I have a rule of not putting out for assholes like you". Drake said snidely.

"Very witty." Ambessa said, gently slapping the side of Drake's face. "I will certainly miss these comments once you can no longer use your mouth." Ambessa stood up and turned to his men. "Bind hulle" He said to the soldiers, who bound Drake and the others by using plastic zip ties on their wrists. "Let's go brighten Piet's day."

* * *

><p>When Drake, Flynn, and Sully reached the base camp with Ambessa and his soldiers, Piet van Meer was not having a very good day. It was completely understandable, given that his life-long search for a mythical object was drastically failing and his only asset was completely useless. But Ambessa had been right about one thing. Seeing Drake as his captive definitely brightened van Meer's day.<p>

"Mason, I have to confess, I was worried that nothing was going to go right today!" He said cheerily as he bound out of his tent to meet the group. He strolled over, smiling widely and his emerald eyes shining maliciously.

"They found catacombs hidden under the Acrocorinth." Ambessa explained, and van Meer tensed with the anticipation of discovery.

"And?"

"Nothing." Ambessa confessed. Van Meer visibly depressed and was silent. But Ambessa continued. "We found several chambers, one of them containing a large mechanism constructed against the wall. And one of the rooms had this in it." Ambessa pulled out the small gold box from the catacombs and handed it to van Meer.

"What is this?" He asked, inspecting the box.

"I'm not entirely sure, but when we found it there was nothing in it." Ambessa said, grabbing Drake's shoulder and pushing him forward. "We haven't searched him yet, Piet. Thought you would like to do it yourself."

Van Meer gazed at the box then looked at Drake, smiling widely. He handed the box to one of his soldier's and walked over to Drake. In a swift move, van Meer rammed his knee into Drake's groin. Drake gasped sharply and doubled up, groaning from the painful agony. His legs buckled and he fell to his knees, at which point van Meer grabbed his hair and pulled his head back.

"Consider this a deterrent, just in case you were going to try making a comment about me feeling you up." Van Meer hissed into Drakes ear. "Now stand up!"

Drake staggered to his feet, still groaning softly. Van Meer started patting him down and searching him, eventually reaching his pocket.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" He said, pulling out the small disk. He turned it between his fingers and gazed at it, frowning. "A coin? What does this have to do with anything?"

"'It's not a coin, genius, it's a seal." Drake said, still struggling for breath.

"A seal? I still don't see the significance." He said, looking back at Drake, who simply shrugged. "Very well then. Jozeph! I have something for you."

Obediently, Kroonen appeared at the entrance of the flap and walked over to them.

"Yes, Piet?"

"Look at this." Van Meer said, handing Kroonen the seal. Kroonen took it and examined it carefully. He mumbled softly to himself, and nodded slowly.

"I recognize this symbol. It's Caesar's Comet. But I'm not exactly well-informed on this subject. I need to do some research before I make any conclusions about it." He said, turning to van Meer.

"And you call yourself a historian." Flynn said accusingly. Ambessa was quick to strike Flynn, then took a gag and slid it over his mouth. He then did the same to Sully and Drake.

"How about a little reunion." Van Meer said, nodding to Ambessa. The soldiers lifted Drake, Flynn, and Sully and started guiding them to another tent that was off to the side. As they were walked away, Drake saw van Meer and Kroonen head into the central tent, with the seal still in their possession.

The tent that the trio was led into was small and almost entirely dark, the thick canvas blocking out the light. A single lamp that sat on a nearby desk provided the only light in the hot and stuffy enclosure. Ambessa and his men tied Drake, Sully, and Flynn to three chairs that were back to back. As Drake sat there with the lamp's harsh light glaring on him, he could pick out another figure in the corner of the tent. Two soldiers went over and lifted the figure, who it turned out was another person tied to a chair. As soon as Drake saw who it was, he felt a chill run through his body. It must have been visible, because Ambessa smiled and laid a hand on the person, who was unconscious.

"Did you miss your friend, Nathan? Vincent here has been doing quite well. Unfortunately, it appears he's taking a nap right now. But maybe that's for the better, after all, you are rather tied up at the moment." Ambessa laughed and lifted Vincent up, placing him down next to Drake. At that moment, van Meer walked in.

"Everybody except Mason leave." He said, his eyes burning with excitement and his long hair frazzled. The soldiers obeyed, and Ambessa went over to lean casually against the desk.

"So, I have a little bit of time before Jozeph finishes his research." van Meer said as he paced in front of the three friends and redid his hair, placing it into a new pristine ponytail. When he was finished grooming himself, he faced the group and stared at them with a mixed look of hatred and amusement. He was enjoying himself immensely.

"Victor Sullivan, I presume?" Van Meer said, gesturing towards Sully, who was struggling against the gag in his mouth..

"Mmmph Mmp!"

"Charmed, I'm sure." Van Meer said, mocking politeness. "So, the first thing I want the three of you to understand is that I do not need you alive. Really, I do not want you alive either. More than anything, I want you dead. But I am not the kind of man to rush such things. You have all put me through far too much trouble to warrant a quick death. You see Dhr. Fawkes here? That is what you will look like. That, and worse. And then, when you are beaten beyond belief, to the very point of death, you will see me be victorious in retrieving the Crocea Mors." Van Meer walked over and leaned in close to Drakes face. "And then I will kill you with it."

There was a long moment of silence during which Drake could see in van Meer's eyes that he was imagining killing each of them. Suddenly, Kroonen burst into the tent.

"Piet, I have it!" He shouted, and van Meer spun around quickly.

"You know where it is?" He said, walking over to Kroonen and standing inches away from him "You know where the sword is?"

"I believe so." Kroonen said. Before he could explain though, van Meer turned to Ambessa and pointed at Vincent.

"Wake him up!"

Ambessa did as he was told, and as Vincent began to come to, van Meer grabbed his chin and turned his face up to his.

"We are about to learn the location of the sword, Dhr. Fawkes. I feel like you would want to know that your pain, resistance, and agony was all for nothing." Vincent groaned, but before he could say anything, Ambessa slid a gag into his mouth as well. Vincent rolled his head to the side and for the first time noticed Drake, Flynn, and Sully next to him. Vincent's eyes almost burst out of his head and he started struggling against the bonds and pulling at the gag. He quickly tired out however, and went limp again, his eyes sad.

"Now, Jozeph, you may resume."

"Yes, well Piet I did a cross check of the symbol on the seal, and I was right. It is Caesar's Comet. While looking into it, I found an account in Pliny's _Natural History _that describes the comet. According to Pliny, the comet represented Julius Caesar's soul after he died." Drake rolled his eyes and laid his head back, already knowing most of this information. Nobody seemed to notice, and Kroonen continued. "Pliny also mentions that the symbol was introduced by members of Julius Caesar's Imperial Court, who worshipped him as a god. These men also used the marking to represent the burial place of Julius Caesar. This is where the seal is leading us, and that is where we will find the sword."

Now Drake was at full attention, trying to absorb as much information as he could. Van Meer was also attentive, and he paced around the tent for several minutes, deep in thought.

"So we need to find out where Julius Caesar was buried." He mumbled to himself. Van Meer turned back to Kroonen, who was already flipping through his legal pad that was covered in notes. "Do we know where he was buried?"

"We have several options, but we don't know for sure." Kroonen said, finally finding the page of his notes he had been looking for. "There are two main locations that I have decided are the most likely. The first is the theory that Caesar was buried underneath the entrance of the Pantheon, which is what used to be the Campus Martius. The second theory is that he was cremated and his ashes are stored in an orb atop the obelisk that can be found in the center of St. Peter's Square." Kroonen lowered the notepad and looked victoriously at van Meer. "Either way, we need to go to Rome."

Drake turned to look at Vincent, Flynn, and Sully, making sure that each of them had been listening closely. They all gave small nods, signifying that they had.

"Get me a map." Van Meer said to Ambessa, who started digging through one of the drawers in the desk. Van Meer beamed widely and turned back to Kroonen, who was still double-checking his notes. "Very well done, Jozeph. I knew that despite the difficulties we faced in the beginning of our little quest, you would come through in the end." He placed a hand on Kroonen's shoulder, who reached out to shake van Meer's other hand as if conducting a business deal. "Well done, my loyal friend."

The two men then turned and joined Ambessa at the desk and hunched over the map, plotting their route. Drake overheard most of the plans, learning that Ambessa had a large carrier ship docked in a port city not far away, where they would be able to load the entire caravan and sail to Brindisi. The Italian port city was also a transportation center that would be able to provide a train that travelled directly to Rome. Ambessa called in some soldiers who untied Drake, Flynn, and Sully from the chairs and guided them out of the tent. Vincent, who was still too weak to walk, was carried out in the small wooden chair he was still tied to. Gagged and zip-tied, Drake was led into the back of one of the trucks with several soldiers. Flynn and Sully were also loaded into the same truck as him, but Vincent was taken elsewhere. Soon, the trucks started rolling away and the caravan moved on towards the city of Patras, where a boat was waiting to take them to Italy and closer to the Crocea Mors.

_**Author's Notes: And so the adventure continues! But now it appears Drake is in a spot of trouble. How will he be able to escape van Meer's grasp? Has he reached the end of his journey, or is it still not too late to recover Crocea Mors? Find out in chapter 11, soon to be uploaded. Thank you all very much for your reviews and followings, they mean a lot to me. Sorry this chapter was a bit short, but I hope you like how the story is proceeding so let me know your opinions and criticisms. Thank you! **_


	12. Chapter 11

_**CHAPTER 11**_

Throughout the truck drive, Drake's mind was working furiously to follow along with what Kroonen had revealed. It didn't help much that he was tied and gagged, not to mention being constantly monitored and harassed by Ambessa's soldiers. But he would just have to figure it out on his own. As he mulled over Kroonen's revelations, it occurred to him that Kroonen's only quoted source was Pliny's _Natural History_, a book that was very often abridged. He desperately wanted to check an unabridged version of Pliny's book to read the article himself, but the only copy they had was in the car that Miranda had driven off in. His mind then wandered to Miranda. Had she gotten away safely? He felt like he would have overheard if she had been caught or killed. She had not attempted a rescue, however, which made him think she had fled to safety. Either way, he hoped she was safe.

Drake's thoughts were still shifting between Miranda and Pliny when the caravan shuddered to a stop. The soldiers roughly pulled him out of the truck and onto the street. The sun was setting on the coastal town of Patras, and the water was a beautiful reddish color that reflected the stunning light display in the sky. However, Drake found himself more concerned with the looming figure that was casting a shadow on them all. Ambessa's military issue carrier battleship.

The boat itself was a large and beaten up but still screamed "ex-militant", making it rather similar in style as the rest of Ambessa's low budget, rag-tag army. But it was easily large enough to fit the two dozen trucks, and then some. As Drake, Flynn, and Sully were walked aboard, Drake took note of as many features of the boat as he could. It was rusted and, for the most part, highly decrepit. At a glance, the boat seemed weak and ineffective, but as the group was guided past some turrets set along the edge and center of the ship, Drake could see they were newly installed and still highly powerful.

The soldiers initially guided the group into a small cabin area on top of the ship. This was the captain's quarters, and also served as van Meer's office. When they were brought in, a shouting match ensued between the soldier's and van Meer; apparently he wanted Drake, Flynn, and Sully to be taken elsewhere. Drake didn't pay much attention to the conversation, however. Sitting on van Meer's desk was the seal, glimmering under van Meer's desk lamp. Van Meer caught Drake's glance and glared at him, opening a drawer and dropping the seal inside.

"Neem hulle weg." Van Meer said, scowling. "Take them away."

The soldiers proceeded to roughly pull the trio through the door and into a new hallway, this one going down sharply into the rusty and damp center of the warship. Drake focused intensely on the path he was being guided, taking note of every turn and hallway they passed through. After several minutes, the group had reached the deep center of the ship, where the soldiers opened a very dark and especially damp room with several wooden chairs and a single bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The soldiers sat them all down in the chairs and used a single cord around their stomachs to bind them. With their hands still zip-tied behind their backs, no extra rope was necessary.

"Bliksem!" One of the soldiers said, spitting into Drake's face. The other soldiers laughed and did the same to Flynn and Sully. Flynn kicked out at the soldier nearest him with one of his free legs, connecting with the man's knee. The soldier cried out in pain as he grabbed his knee and pulled out his pistol. The man pressed his gun up against Flynn's temple, and shrieked a string of furious curses at him. Drake was afraid that Flynn was about to get killed when Ambessa entered the room.

"Genoeg!" Ambessa shouted, grabbing the soldier by the nape of his uniform and pulling him away. "We keep them alive for now, do you understand?" He shouted, and the soldier hung his head like a berated puppy. The soldiers filtered out and Ambessa leaned out the door, dragging Vincent in when he came back. Vincent was still tied to his chair, and had apparently once again fallen into unconsciousness. Ambessa set Vincent's chair down and headed towards the door. Just before he left, Ambessa looked back at the group and smiled.

"Don't worry, once we start moving I will be back for you." He shut the door, flicking the light off as he left.

Drake sat in the pitch dark for a few seconds, and resolved to at least sleep while he could. He would need his energy. Situating himself as comfortably in the chair as possible, Drake closed his eyes and drifted to sleep just as the boat began to lurch to life, sailing out of the dock and into the ocean.

* * *

><p>Several hours later, Drake awoke under the pale flickering light of the bare bulb. He was not awakening from his sleep, which had only lasted about 30 minutes, but from a particularly severe beating at the hands of Ambessa. He started choking on the gag as the taste of blood filled his mouth and clogged his throat. Ambessa pulled down the gag and allowed Drake to spit out the blood, but immediately returned the gag to his mouth before he had a chance to speak. Drake lolled his head around, his vision swimming before his eyes. The abuse had begun with freezing water being thrown on him as he slept, and then continued with a general beating by Ambessa. Then Kroonen had joined them, and the ex-special forces knew more than just a thing or two about torture. Kroonen had under his employment several devices to extract the greatest amounts of pain from his subjects, and over the course of two hours, each of them had fallen into unconsciousness many times.<p>

"Well, Mr. Drake, you appear to be the first one awake." Ambessa said, grabbing Drake's face and forcing him to make eye contact. "How fortunate for me, and horribly unfortunate for you." He released Drake's face and punched him full force in the stomach. Drake fought hard to stop himself from throwing up and looked up to Ambessa. His gaze then travelled beyond the large African and saw Kroonen sharpening some strange new device. He felt a cold shiver of fear run up his back, and lowered his head again. He heard a groan to his left, and Ambessa chuckled.

"Looks like we have another live one."

There was a thump of fist hitting flesh and a groan of pain. Drake knew it was Flynn to his left, and Sully to his right. Directly across from him was Vincent, whose terrified eyes showed that he was familiar with each of Kroonen's sickening tools. The group had been assembled into a square, Kroonen's way of making sure that they each could observe the other's torture. Kroonen walked over to the unconscious Vincent and grabbed his head, thrusting it into a bucket of freezing water. After a few seconds, Vincent started jerking and shaking, and when Kroonen released his head, he rose up from the bucket gasping for air and wide awake.

"Wake up, Mr. Fawkes!" Kroonen said, smiling evilly. "After taking such long naps, I'm beginning to think you don't enjoy our company!" Kroonen turned to Ambessa and gestured to Sully. "Wake up the old man."

Ambessa did as he was told, and Kroonen walked over to Drake. He grabbed him by the jaw and opened his mouth, pulling out the gag and fitting the new device into his mouth. It looked a bit like a bear trap, with several hooks sticking out from the ends and a small sharpened clamp in the middle. On the front of the device was a small winch that widened the device and tightened the clamp.

"This is one of my favorite toys." He explained, putting the hooks painfully into the sides of Drake's mouth and fitting a small clamp on his tongue. "It will simultaneously break your jaw and remove your tongue with a twist of the winch." He explained, turning the winch very slightly. Drake immediately felt a painful stretching sensation in his jaw and a sharp razor press against his tongue. Kroonen loosened the winch again, and Drake started breathing heavily out of fear and pain.

"I want all of you to observe carefully!" Kroonen said to his other prisoners. Drake tried to cry out, but the clamp stopped him from being able to speak actual words. "Shhhh. Please, Mr. Drake, let's not make a fuss." He then turned to Sully and smiled. "I hope you enjoy watching this, old man. You're next."

Kroonen stood next to Drake and started to twist the winch again. Drake felt his jaw widen and stretch, searing pain through his entire head and neck. The blade attached to the clamp began to press down on his tongue, and a tear came to Drake's eye. His ears began to ring sharply as the pain overwhelmed him and his jaw stretched more and more and pulled until it felt as though it were about to snap.

Suddenly, the boat shook and trembled from a massive explosion, causing Kroonen to lose his balance and topple sideways.

"What the hell was that?" He barked standing to his feet. A soldier burst into the room and started speaking hurriedly to Kroonen and Ambessa, but Drake hardly heard the words. His ears were still ringing, and he found it difficult to believe his jaw was still intact. Kroonen came over to him and released the device, shoving the gag back in place instead.

"I will finish with you later, don't worry." He hissed before leaving the room with Ambessa. One of the soldiers was left behind in the room, and he leaned lazily against the wall, watching them. The boat shook again, this time harder. The guard looked around curiously, obviously uninformed as to what was occurring.

After a few minutes the boat shook again, this time more violently. Drake felt his chair lift up slightly before it fell back into place. The guard fell onto the ground, and Vincent's chair completely tipped over. His warped wooden chair smashed against the floor, and the rope around Vincent fell limp. Vincent remained lying on the ground, as the guard got back to his feet and slowly walked over to Vincent. When the guard drew close, Vincent jumped up with an uncanny amount of energy for somebody who had been through the torture he had. Vincent grabbed the soldier's pistol from his belt and shot him through the head. He then took the soldier's knife and rushed over to Sully, beginning to cut at his zip-tie.

"Thank god, Vincent!" Sully grunted once Vincent pulled out his gag.

"No problem." Vincent rasped, his voice hoarse and uncharacteristically sad. But really, who could blame him? Sully rubbed at his wrists once he was free and Vincent moved on to Drake and Flynn.

"Not gonna lie, Nate, I thought this was the end." Flynn said, also rubbing his wrists. Drake nodded and massaged his aching jaw.

"Yeah, a bit too close."

"Let's get out of here." Sully said as he picked up the guards AK-47. Just as the group reached the door, it burst open and two soldiers stood in the hallway, standing in slack jawed surprise. Sully shot them down and handed each of their AK's to Drake and Flynn. The group started heading one way, but several soldiers appeared at the end of the hallway. The soldiers pointed and shouted at Drake, Flynn, Sully, and Vincent; and the guards were prepared to shoot when the boat was rocked by another explosion. The soldiers let out a cry of surprise as a wave of water washed through the hallway and swept them off their feet.

"This way!" Vincent said, guiding the group in the opposite direction.

"Oh shit! This whole goddamn boats gonna sink!" Sully shouted as more water filled the hallway. Vincent led them up a staircase when Drake suddenly stopped.

"Wait, not that way. Let's go this way!" He said, opening a door into another hallway.

"Why the bloody hell should we go that way?" Flynn asked "That's the way the water is coming in from!"

"I have to do something." Drake said, starting down the hallway.

"Alright, Flynn you go with Drake." Vincent said, turning to Sully. "You and I will go up to the deck and see what's going on. Hopefully we can secure a lifeboat too." Flynn and Sully nodded, and then headed off in their respective directions.

"Hold on, mate!" Flynn yelled as he tried to catch up with Drake. The boat shook again, and Flynn had to catch himself against the wall. The floor was now beginning to lean slightly and the water was at ankle depth. "Nathan, where the hell are we going?"

"To get the seal!" Drake shouted back, mumbling to himself the directions he had memorized on their way down into the ship's hold.

"Are you insane?" Flynn shouted, trudging through the water to reach Drake. "You're going to van Meer's office? Do you _want_ to get yourself killed?"

Drake chuckled as he burst through another door, revealing a stairwell.

"If I had a dollar for every time somebody asked me that, I think I would be able to retire early"

"Do you possibly think that could be a bad thing?" Flynn said with a mocking smile as he reached the bottom of the stairwell. "Truly, you're stupidity never ceases to amaze me." He pulled his legs out of the now knee deep water and started following Drake up the stairs. "Jesus that was cold water."

After a few flights of stairs, Drake opened the door into a new hallway. He followed it down a few meters and opened the door.

"Oh shit."

On the deck of the ship, chaos had ensued. Soldiers were running around desperately, fires were burning everywhere, and the ship lay in shambles from being shaken so much. As for the source of the shaking, it soon became very clear. Several military helicopters were flying over the deck of the ship, unleashing streams of rapid-fire bullets from their machine gun turrets. The soldiers on the deck were firing in return with their automatic rifles, and several of the anti-aircraft turrets were being used to shoot down the helicopters. At the same time, a handful of men were being deployed from the helicopters and onto the ship, resulting in a small war on the deck. It was Ambessa's army versus an army of the Operatives. One of the helicopters fired a missile into an anti-aircraft turret, causing the ship to shake viciously again.

"C'mon Harry, this way." Drake said, pulling Flynn to the side. So far, the pair had not been seen, and Drake really preferred not being shot at. They soon reached van Meer's office, and Drake was relieved to see that there was minimal fire-fighting in the area. He quickly entered the office and bee-lined to the desk.

"Third drawer on the left…" He whispered to himself. He opened the drawer and pulled out the seal. "Perfect!" He said with a beaming smile.

"Ok mate, that's wonderful. Now, I think it would be a great idea for us to get the hell out of here. As in, immediately." Flynn said anxiously, fidgeting with his gun.

"Yeah, I'm coming." Drake said, walking toward Flynn. He stopped and did a double take, looking back at the desk."

"Oh, what is it now?" Flynn asked, walking over.

"It's a GPS map." Drake explained, pointing at a small device on van Meer's desk. A small red blip signified where the boat was. "Looks like we're in the Corfu Strait." Drake observed, looking closer at the device. "Right in between the Greek island of Corfu and Albania."

"I'm so glad I know that." Flynn said sarcastically. "But can we please go?" He said, grabbing Drake by the arm and pulling him out the door.

Just as they left, another missile slammed into the hull, and this time the entire boat lurched and drastically tilted back, causing Drake and Flynn to fall backwards into van Meer's office. Everything toppled over and slid against the back wall, and Drake and Flynn struggled to their feet, rushing out of the room.

When they reached the deck, a small band of soldiers and Operatives were in a firefight. Drake and Flynn ducked for cover, and Drake saw Sully and Vincent over to the side, ducking for cover behind their own wall next to one of the lifeboats. Sully was desperately yanking at the lever, trying to loosen the cables that suspended the lifeboat while Vincent covered him. Drake signaled him and Vincent nodded, showing that he was covering them too. Drake waited until the firefight had finished and the Operatives, victorious, moved on to the rest of the battle. With the deck empty, he started moving across. Drake had only taken a few steps, however, when bullets flew by his head and clanged against the floor.

"Shit." He muttered as he fell back behind cover. Vincent moved out of his cover and started shooting at the assailant, who Drake could not see.

"Go!" He cried out, and Drake took advantage of the opportunity to run across. Flynn managed to stay close behind him and the two reached the cover safely.

"Stay back." Vincent said, inching forward. "Get in the boat if you can. I'm going to finish this."

"Vincent, come back here!" Drake said, but couldn't grab his friend in time. Vincent walked slowly forward as he kept his gun trained on where Drake assumed the assailant was hiding. Drake turned to Sully for help, but the older man simply shrugged and went back to loosening the lifeboat's cables. Vincent was about halfway across the deck, edging his way slowly along the badly angled boat when another missile struck and shook the carrier. Drake, who had been covering Vincent, fell to his knees and dropped his AK-47.

"No, no, no!" He cried as the weapon slid away from him. "Damn it." He shouted, turning to look at Vincent, who had also fallen. The boat was tilting more drastically, and Vincent was struggling to walk.

"Mr. Fawkes, I feel as though I must tell you that this situation does not look very fortunate for either of us. Perhaps it is best if we just leave each other alone." The assailant shouted, and Drake felt his blood run cold. It was Ambessa.

"Well, Mason, I think at this point I am entirely justified in saying I don't trust you even a little bit." Vincent responded, still fighting for his balance. Ambessa slowly stood up, his hands in the air. Ambessa held a pistol in his right hand, and he raised it slowly and deliberately, not aiming it at Vincent.

"How about this, Vincent?" Ambessa proposed. "I will drop my weapon, and walk away. You don't shoot me, and I won't send my men after you. I want to live to see tomorrow and I know you do too." Ambessa then proceeded to toss his gun to the side. Vincent hesitated for a moment, despite having an open shot.

At that moment, two very important things happened. First, Sully finally loosened the lever that was locking the cables in place and gained control of the lifeboat. Secondly, the carrier shook one more massive time and tilted to an almost entirely vertical angle. Drake fell due to the drastic angle, catching himself on Flynn who was holding onto Sully who was holding onto the lever. As inopportune as it was, Drake couldn't help but smile at how that ship's angle now oddly reminded him of the ending of _Titanic_.

Vincent, with nothing to hold onto, fell and rolled down the deck, dropping his gun. Ambessa took advantage of the situation and vaulted over his cover, taking the momentum of the slope to gain speed and force. Vincent landed on a nearby wall that was perpendicular to the now vertical deck right as Ambessa landed next to him. Drake, Flynn, and Sully jumped into the lifeboat, which was swaying back and forth. Drake could see in the distance several other lifeboats leaving the warship and heading to the east.

"Vincent!" He shouted down as the lifeboat swayed. Sully had pushed the lever back up to lock the cables and stop the lifeboat from falling. Meanwhile, Vincent and Ambessa were in a full on brawl, and as incredible as it seemed, Vincent was winning.

"Vincent, we have to go now! Climb up here!" Drake shouted, trying to think how he might be able to help his friend.

Before Vincent could even react, however, the events of the fight quickly turned. Ambessa landed a square hit on Vincent's jaw, then bent him around and elbowed him several times in the kidneys. Ambessa swung Vincent around and slammed him against the side of the deck. Drake could vaguely hear Ambessa's voice as he shouted at Vincent.

"At first I was annoyed by you, Vincent. I considered you a waste of my time. Then, I found you incredibly brave. I was inspired by you. You have courage like that of no man I have ever met. And I find that in the end, I have been more honored to fight you than anyone I have fought before." Ambessa tightened his grip on Vincent's throat with his left hand and pushed him slowly up the side of the deck. In his right hand, he wielded a large and vicious machete. "I suppose, in a sense, I am thanking you. And I am glad that I could kill you here in a fight and not with you tied to a chair. Goodbye and farewell, Mr. Vincent Fawkes!"

"Vincent! No!" Drake cried as Ambessa plunged the machete into Vincent's stomach. Ambessa lifted the blade into Vincent's ribcage and vaulted the body over his shoulder. Drake watched in horror as Vincent's dead body toppled down the length of the ship and then splashed into the freezing ocean.

"Nate, we need to get the hell out of here!" Sully shouted as two helicopters flew over and leveled with them. Flynn walked to the edge of the lifeboat and kicked out at the lever, undoing the lock and releasing the cables. The lifeboat fell several feet and splashed into the ocean. Sully revved the engine as Drake scanned the water for Vincent's body, but the archaeologist had sunken deep into the Ionian Sea.

"Come on, come on…" Sully murmured as he pulled at the engine cord. Soon, the engine came to life and started speeding forward. Just as the lifeboat started moving, the two helicopters launched two missiles each into the sinking warship. The carrier exploded and fell into the water, creating a force that caused the lifeboat with Drake, Flynn, and Sully in it to be launched forward. When the lifeboat finally slowed down, the engine choked and spluttered, eventually shutting off. Sully tried to restart the engine, but the motor was too old to handle the shock it had endured. The boat was left to the mercy of the tide, which pushed it further to the West and towards the island of Corfu. Drake turned to look over his shoulder and through the night to see if there was any sign of the sea battle that had occurred. Except for the distant helicopters flying away, the sea was calm and lifeless.

The three men sat in silence as the lifeboat continued to drift, and Drake felt suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of exhaustion. He looked at Flynn and Sully, and it occurred to him that he probably looked just as badly beaten and bruised as they did. They all looked and felt utterly exhausted, and within a few minutes, they had each faded away into sleep.

**_Author's notes: Alright, so I was multi-tasking while writing this chapter and am afraid there are some mistakes I didn't catch, so if there was anything that seemed off, please let me know! Thank you all so much for the reviews, they have been very helpful. I got a few new followers this weekend, so thank you for that as well. Keep it up everyone! Oh, sorry about killing Vincent. It was fated since the beginning. Anyways, in the next upload we shall ssee how Drake recover's from this loss and what he decides to do next. Thanks again, I really hope you're enjoying the story thus far. _**


	13. Chapter 12

_**CHAPTER 12**_

"Well, look who's finally up and about."

Drake gave a weak smile and wave to the woman who was reclining in her porch chair. She gestured to a bench on her left and Drake graciously accepted the seat. It was several days after the sea battle, and they were in a small town just outside of Kassiopi, a city on the Northern coast of the island of Corfu. They were living in the house of Nadia Michelakos, a beautiful, middle-aged local who usually rented her house out to tourists. Apparently, Nadia was an avid sailor, and one morning she had gone out on her regular sailing trip and spotted a small boat several miles away. When she reached the boat, she saw it had three bloody, beaten, near death men in it. With the help of some friends, she was able to pull the lifeboat into her private dock and bring the men into her house. For the past few days, she had been working night and day to nurse them back to health. This was the first time Drake had been able and allowed to leave his bed.

"Nadia," he said to the woman, who turned and looked at him. "I am extremely grateful for all you have done for us. We owe you our lives. But we have no way of paying you back."

"Enough of that, paidi mou." Nadia said, and Drake smiled sheepishly. She had used the term with him before, and it was the equivalent of "little one". Nadia was definitely an ideal mother-figure. "You don't have to pay me back, I am happy to help people in distress." She continued, placing a loving hand on his shoulder. She stood up and dismissed herself, saying she needed to check on Flynn and Sully. Drake sat in the bench for a few moments longer, staring out at the beach. Every fiber of his body hurt from the strain of the past several days. But he was sick of lying in bed, even if it was good for him. Besides, he was too on edge and anxious, not knowing whether or not van Meer was alive. And if he was alive, had he already gotten to Rome?

Drake reclined in the bench and tried to think out his next move. He was still lost in thought when he heard a knock from the door. He turned and saw Flynn standing in the doorway with two beers.

"Care for a drink, mate?" He asked, and Drake chuckled softly, sitting upright.

"Oh thank god." Drake said, graciously accepting the cold bottle. "You know, the whole time we were being tortured, the only thing I could think of was how badly I wanted one last beer."

"Cheers to that." Flynn said. The two men raised their bottles together, and then proceeded to take a large drink. They sat in silence for a few moments, and Flynn turned to Drake.

"What now, Nate?"

Drake paused for a moment, took another drink, and started nodding his head as if to encourage himself.

"We need to go to Rome." He said, and Flynn sighed.

"I was really afraid you would say that. Did you not see the fight that was going on there? Van Meer's probably dead. Kroonen and Ambessa too. Even if they aren't, we are safe here. Why do you want to go looking around for more trouble?" Drake simply shook his head, staring into the distance. "Why can't you just let it go?" Flynn pleaded.

"Normally I would." Drake said, taking another sip from his bottle. "But not this time. Not after Vincent…" His voice faded away, and Flynn nodded in understanding.

"You do realize that this means I'm stuck going after this damn thing with you?" Flynn said, and Drake smiled. The two friends raised their beers together again and drank in silence. The sun was setting behind them, casting deep long shadows out along the beach and turning the water to blood. After a few seconds, the porch light flicked on and Nadia came out giggling softly.

"Your friend Victor is quite the charmer." She said, sounding like a young schoolgirl. Drake smiled to himself, not at all surprised at Sully's behavior. Nor could he blame the old man, Nadia was gorgeous.

"Yeah, you've got to watch out for that one." Flynn said, rolling his eyes. "I'm warning you, he's real menace."

"And you're a real pain in the ass." Sully said from the doorway. Drake scooted down the bench to make space for his older friend, who was already lighting up a new cigar. He glanced from Drake to Flynn and then grunted. "What? No beer for me?"

"Here, let me." Nadia said, jumping up and hurrying into the house.

"I like her." Sully said, pointing his cigar in Nadia's direction.

"I bet you do." Drake said as he laughed. He started coughing as he felt his ribcage burn from the effort. He sipped some more beer and then turned to Sully. "We're going to Rome." He said bluntly. Sully simply leaned back and nodded.

"I know." He said. "When should we tell Nadia?"

"Not yet." Drake said, finishing off his beer. "I want to find some way to repay her for all she's done for us." He continued.

"Oh, I'm sure Victor will find a way to repay her." Flynn said sarcastically. Sully winked and chuckled as he leaned back. Nadia came out a few minutes later, handed them each a beer and reported that dinner would be ready in 20 minutes. Drake, Sully, and Flynn relaxed for a few more minutes and enjoyed the night air before going inside to help set up for dinner.

* * *

><p>The next day, it was Nadia who approached Drake, Flynn, and Sully about their next move. The three men were out in the yard helping Nadia with garden maintenance when she confronted them.<p>

"So how soon do you need to leave?" She asked as she handed them each a glass of water.

"Nadia-" Drake started, but she cut him off.

"Please, Nathan, it's fine. I understand. Just tell me, when do you need to leave?"

Drake was silent for a moment, then hung his head in shame.

"As soon as possible, today if we could." He mumbled.

"Leaving today? I just got here!" A voice called from the backdoor of the house. Drake turned in surprise and saw Miranda standing there with two bags of luggage. "I hope you don't mind, there door was open so I let myself in." She said to Nadia, who looked as startled as Drake.

"Oh my goodness, I forgot! Come here, my dear, let me take your luggage for you." She cried out, taking Miranda's bags and disappearing into the house. Miranda stood for a few seconds in the doorway, looking at Drake, Flynn, and Sully who stood frozen.

"What, no big hello? Didn't you miss me?" She asked, and Flynn and Sully looked to Drake.

"Miranda…" He stammered, unsure what to say. "What happened? At Corinth… I… We… you never radioed in."

"I know, and I'm so sorry!" She said, walking closer to him. "I drove all the way to the main city, where I assumed I was safe. I waited for you, but you never called. So I started calling you but nobody responded. I checked the radio every day, and finally Miss Michelakos responded. She told me you guys were here and I came as fast as I could." She was now close enough to see Drake's bruises and scars and stopped. "My god, what happened to you?"

"You can thank Ambessa and Kroonen for these" Sully said gruffly, scowling and clenching his fists. Miranda looked at the each, then her mouth dropped into a tight frown. Drake knew what was coming, and he dreaded it.

"Where's Vincent?"

Drake stood in silence and hung his head. There was a long pause, during which Drake couldn't quite find the words to explain what had happened. But no words were needed. Miranda knew. Drake had a feeling she always knew.

"I'm so, so sorry." Drake said as she fell into him, crying. He held her tightly as she sobbed uncontrollably into his shoulder. Nadia appeared in the doorway and looked out in shock. Sully walked over sadly and gently guided her inside, and after a few seconds Flynn followed them. Drake and Miranda just stood outside in the garden, both of them now crying.

Each member of the group kept to themselves until dinner that night, which was awkwardly silent. Nobody knew what to say, and the only sound was the clink of silverware and the occasional sniffle from Miranda. Every few minutes, Flynn would try to strike up some type of conversation, but failed miserably. It was finally Nadia who was able to break the silence.

"I have some bad news concerning your departure." She said softly, looking at Drake, who hardly acknowledged her. "The police here on Corfu and the governmental police in Albania are trying to find out what happened the night I found you. They have tightened security and have cut off any last-minute boat or train rides. If you haven't had a ticket for two weeks, you can't get one now." She continued, and Drake looked up in shock.

"There's no way?" He asked, and Nadia shook her head.

"There's no way to buy a ticket. But I have another idea." She said, standing up and clearing the plates as she talked. Sully stood and gestured for her to sit down, taking the plates instead. She smiled her thanks and kept talking. "You see, my late husband was very rich, and as you know, I have a passion for boating. The yacht you see down at the harbor is mine. It will get you to Italy."

"No." Drake said, shaking his head. "You have done too much for us as it is and we have no way of repaying you."

"Actually, we figured that part out already." Miranda said, and both Drake and Flynn looked at her in surprise. It was the first thing she had said all evening.

"It's become difficult to operate and maintain this house by myself." Nadia explained quietly, looking at Drake "And after having you all here today, I've realized that I do need help."

Drake looked first from Miranda to Nadia and back again.

"I'm staying here, Nate." Miranda said, laying a hand on his knee. "I will work for her to pay back her services. And when you guys return with the yacht, I will go back home." Miranda's eyes were pleading with Drake, who had a hurt look on his face. He locked eyes with Miranda, who was now nearing tears again.

"I'm sorry to leave you like this." She whispered, a silent tear running down her face. "But without Vincent… Knowing that he's gone…" Drake leaned over and squeezed her knee in return, looking as compassionate as he could.

"It's ok. Really, it is." He whispered. Miranda smiled gratefully and Drake turned back to Nadia, who was explaining the situation to Sully. "Alright Nadia, we have a deal. Miranda will stay and work with you, and we will take your yacht to Rome. After we finish with our business, we will bring the yacht back to you and make sure everything is settled." Nadia nodded and went to the kitchen to get the dessert.

"You know, this is all fine and good, but I have one quick question." Flynn said to Drake. "Where the hell are we going? We know what we're looking for is in Rome, but where exactly?"

"Well, if we can trust Kroonen's research, we are looking for the grave of Julius Caesar. Like he said, there are several speculations as to where that might be. However, I think I want to read Pliny's account myself and see what he says." Drake said to Flynn. He turned to face Miranda, who had wiped away her tears but still looked miserable. It was so different from her usual confidence and strength. "Miranda, in the rental car there were several books from the London Library. Pliny's _Natural History_ was one of them. Did you happen to bring it with you in your luggage?"

"Of course." She said, standing up "Let me get it. I'll be back in a second." Miranda left the room just as Nadia entered with dessert, a delicious platter of dates stuffed with goat cheese and walnuts then topped with honey.

"Nate, just what exactly are you hoping to find?" Sully said, stuffing his face. "Unless Pliny tells you exactly where Caesar is buried, odds are van Meer has already checked it out."

"If van Meer is alive at all." Flynn cut in. Sully gave him a dirty "stop-talking-right-now" look and turned back to Drake.

"Listen, the point is, van Meer has a huge head start on us. If Pliny doesn't give us any specifics, we're completely lost. I'm not exactly thrilled about going on a wild goose chase through Rome."

"Well, specifics are exactly what I'm looking for Sully." Drake said, popping a stuffed date into his mouth. "And if we can't find them…" Drake shrugged, tossed another date in the air and caught it in his mouth. "Well I haven't thought that far ahead yet." He said with a smile.

Miranda came back into the room carrying Pliny's _Natural History_ and handed it to Drake. After scanning the table of contents, Drake flipped the tome open and ran his finger down a page, quickly reading to himself. He looked up and smiled at Sully.

"We got our specifics. Pliny is talking about the phenomenon of comets and mentions a certain place where comets are revered. He quotes Augustus Caesar. Listen to this:

'_In those very days during the solemnity of my plays__,__ there was seen a blazing star for seven days together__,__ in a region of the sky which is under the North star Septentriones__.__ It arose about the eleventh hour of the day__,__ bright it was and clear__,__ and evidently seen in all lands__.__ By that star it was signified (as the common sort believed) that the soul of (Julius) Cæsar was received among the divine powers of the immortal gods__.__ In which regard__,__ that mark or ensign of a star was set to the head of that Statue of Julius Cæsar__,__ which soon after we dedicated to him in the Forum Romanum_'"

"Nate, I know you are excited and everything, but that just doesn't seem conclusive enough for me." Sully said, shaking his head. Drake looked to Flynn for support, who only shrugged in uncertainty.

"Well, it's the only lead we've got!" Drake said indignantly. "This temple is the only structure we know of that has any association with Caesar's Comet, which is the same symbol here." He said, pulling the seal out of his pocket and tossing it onto the table. "That's enough of a connection for me. It's better than nothing."

"He's right, Victor." Flynn said, nodding his confirmation to Drake

"Thank you Harry!" Drake said, throwing up his arms in exasperation.

"Fine." Sully conceded "We'll go to the Roman Forum and check it out. But I'm warning you kid, don't get reckless here. You know how dangerous van Meer is. No matter what the genius over here says, van Meer could very well be alive."

"I resent the sarcasm." Flynn said bitterly, but Sully ignored him, staring at Drake.

"Relax Sully. I know what I'm doing." Drake said, leaning back contentedly. In reality, he had no idea what he was doing. The Roman Forum could be a complete flop. He could just be setting himself up for an indirect suicide. But at this point, he just needed some type of lead. Anything to make him feel like they were on the right track.

"Alright, so we've all reached an agreement then?" Flynn asked. Drake and Sully each nodded and Flynn got up stretching. "In that case, I'm gonna go hit the hay."

Flynn left the room, and soon after that Sully and Nadia left together, leaving Drake and Miranda alone in the room.

"Last time we were alone in a room together like this you were telling me how he was going to be ok." Miranda said sadly, staring at a cup of water in front of her. "How we would join your group and start working together. At the hotel, in London. Do you remember?" She glanced at Drake, who nodded but said nothing. He remembered. He would always remember. It had been a promise to himself and Miranda that he couldn't keep. It had haunted him ever since.

After a few tense moments, Drake got up to leave.

"Well, I've got a busy day tomorrow. I'm gonna head up now." He turned to look at Miranda who was still staring absently at her water. "You ok?"

Miranda nodded and Drake turned, starting to walk away.

"Nate?"

Drake turned to Miranda and was surprised she was already standing. In a swift move she came up to him and kissed him passionately on the lips. For a second, Drake was stunned. Then he wrapped his arms around her and delved into the kiss, allowing the moment of passion to whisk away all the terrors and pains that he had experienced. They stood kissing for what felt like an eternity before Miranda gently pulled away.

"Please be careful." She whispered as she pulled away. Drake nodded slowly and Miranda kissed him lightly on the check before disappearing to her room. Drake stood frozen for a moment and then smiled to himself. And for the first time in a long time, Drake went to sleep that night sufficiently happy.

* * *

><p>Early the next morning, Drake, Flynn, and Sully said their goodbyes and thanks to Miranda and Nadia. They tried to keep it as brief as possible, knowing that the longer they stayed the less they would want to separate. Kassiopi was a beautiful city, and Drake felt very much at peace there. Despite only having stayed a few days, he was deeply sad to be leaving it.<p>

Nadia's yacht was small and modest, but as Sully started sailing it he could tell it was powerful. He informed Drake and Flynn that the journey would take approximately 5 ½ hours, so Drake took the time to look more into Caesar's death and the Temple Forum. Thanks to Miranda bringing all of the books they had gotten from the library in London and her personal collection, Drake had all the resources he needed.

"Ok, so let's start by looking into Caesar's death." He said to Flynn, who sat across from him at the table. Sully was too busy sailing to join the debriefing, but Flynn was anxious to learn more about their destination. "Julius Caesar was assassinated in 44 B.C. at the Roman Forum and Mark Antony gave his famous speech. The people brought Caesar's body to the Capitoline Hill, in hopes of burying him with the gods. Priests rejected Caesars body though, and did not let the people bury his body there. So, his body was brought back to the Roman Forum, where Caesar's personal Imperial Cult was waiting. They built a massive funeral pyre and cremated his body there. The cremation was considered informal, however, and an official burial was held in the Campus Martius, which is now where the Pantheon is."

"Wait, isn't the Pantheon one of the places Kroonen said to check?" Flynn asked, still somewhat skeptical of the Roman Forum idea.

"Yeah, but what's important is what happened next, and this is what distinguishes the Roman Forum from the other possible sites. You see, after the Imperial Cult burned Caesar's body, they erected a pillar and constructed an altar on the spot. This was all inside the Regia, which was the office of the Pontifex Maximus. After the disintegration of the Roman Republic, the building was abandoned and the Imperial Cult, who worshipped Caesar as a true god, remained to defend the altar from anti-Caesarian political groups who had already destroyed the column. They were there for two years, then they disappeared. After that, Octavian and Mark Antony decreed the Regia a Temple to Caesar. Shortly after this was when Caesar's Comet first appeared. Augustus consecrated the temple, and it became the Temple of the Deified Julius Caesar, or Divus Julius. So you see? This temple in the Roman Forum and the seal we found in Corinth have the same symbol, the same origins. I can bet you anything that's where we will find the Crocea Mors." Drake sat back in his chair, looking very satisfied with himself. Flynn pondered for a moment then nodded.

"Ok. I'll buy it. But what's the condition of the Temple now. I mean, is it still standing? Has it been excavated?"

"Yeah, the Temple is still there. At this point it's just a series of small walls in the general shape of a building. But it's still there. And it's been excavated, but not that well. Most of it has fallen apart, and archaeologists noted that at some point in the Temple's history, around 14 B.C., the altar was removed and the niche that held Caesar's statue was blocked up. They thought this was kind of strange but didn't give much thought to it."

Flynn and Drake spent the rest of the boat trip formulating their exact plan for investigating the Temple. They would go in dressed as tourists during the day and take reconnaissance photos. They would learn guard patterns and security that night, and then make the move the following night. Hopefully, during their daytime reconnaissance they would find some hint as to where they needed to look for the sword. Overall it seemed as though the plan was pretty surefire, and Drake was beginning to feel confident. They could pull this off. They were going to pull this off.

It was a couple hours later when they finally docked in Brindisi. Sully reserved a spot at the harbor for five days, giving them ample time to search for the sword. The trio then grabbed a train that went directly to Rome, during which Drake and Flynn updated Sully on their plans.

"I got to hand it to you kid, you really figured this one out." Sully said, patting Drake on the shoulder. Drake was glad to have Sully's support. Things never really felt right when he and Sully were in disagreement.

After a cheap train meal and several more hours of sitting and waiting with intermittent sleep, they arrived in Rome. With very little time for sightseeing, they quickly checked into a hostel that was not far from the Forum and prepared their tourist outfits. It was only as they neared the Roman Forum that Drake sensed something was wrong. A security guard stood near the parking entrance, and held out a hand to stop them.

"Scusa Signores." The guard said, but after taking one look at their outfits he switched to English. "The Roman Forum is closed for the next few days due to archaeologist work. I'm sorry." The guard then proceeded to point them in the direction of the exit. Sully thanked the guard and pulled into the street, parking on the side as soon as they were out of sight.

"How much you wanna bet it's van Meer?" He asked, and Flynn's face paled. The entire plan had banked on Flynn's theory that van Meer was dead or at least slowed down.

"Maybe not." Drake said, trying to remain optimistic. "We have to check."

Drake and Flynn climbed out of the car while Sully stayed on standby for a quick escape. They worked their way through a back alley and found a fire escape for a nearby apartment building. Flynn boosted Drake up, who lowered the ladder for Flynn. The two worked their way to the top of the apartment and looked out onto the Roman Forum.

"Son of a bitch." Flynn mumbled with a sigh.

The Roman Forum as a whole had been infested with the same caravan and tent system that had been at van Meer's camp in Corinth. Drake did notice that the number of trucks had been drastically reduced, and even the number of soldiers seemed less. This wasn't a surprise, granted the massive sea battle that had taken place. Drake took out his high zoom camera and started scanning through the camp.

"I don't believe it." He said, handing the camera to Flynn.

In the middle of the camp, outside of his usual tent, van Meer was directing the soldiers in setting up the rest of the camp. To his right was Kroonen, who was flipping through his yellow legal pad and pointing things out to van Meer.

"Well, just our luck that they both lived." Flynn muttered. After a few seconds of monitoring the camp, Flynn swore sharply under his breath. "Oh, Jesus, how the bloody hell is _he_ alive!" Flynn said, his voice filled with fear. Drake didn't need the camera to see who Flynn was talking about. Ambessa's huge frame had just come out of the tent and now stood alongside van Meer.

"Look over there." Drake said, pointing to a large building that was closer to them. "That's the Temple of Antoninus over there. The ruins in front of it are what's left over of the Temple of Caesar." Flynn turned the camera and snapped a picture of the Temple. There were a few soldiers wandering near the Temple of Antoninus, but none of them were at the ruins of the Temple Divus Julius.

"The soldiers don't seem very interested in our temple." Flynn observed, and Drake nodded in agreement.

"It looks like they just started setting up camp." Drake said, looking back down towards the camp. "I don't think they really know what they're looking for."

"So what are we going to do?"

"Let's go back down and tell Sully." Drake said, heading back to the fire escape. "We're coming back tonight, and we're gonna grab the Crocea Mors from right under their noses."

_**Author's Notes: Alright, there's chapter 12 for you guys. Let me know what you think of it! I know it moved a bit slowly, but Drake needed a break from all the action. Thanks so much for the reviews and following, we are getting ever closer to the climax and discovery of the Crocea Mors! Once agin, thank you and keep up the reviews!**_


	14. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

Drake decided that before they left the hotel that night he wanted to speak with Miranda for reasons he couldn't quite decide on.

"I'm fine, Nate. Nadia and I have just opened back up for tourists and it gets pretty busy. I miss New York, but I guess that will have to wait until you guys return. How are things in Italy anyway?"

"Well, we think we know where to find the sword." Drake said, sitting down on a small stone bench. He had decided to take the call at a nearby park so as not to disturb Flynn or Sully.

"Well that's great! Where is it?"

"The Roman Forum, at the Temple Divus Julius."

"Makes perfect sense actually. You guys are making great progress. How long do you think it will take to get back?"

"Not long." Drake said, getting up and walking around more. He was finding it difficult to keep still. "Van Meer is here though." That was the bombshell, and not to his surprise, Miranda fell silent. When she spoke again, her voice was noticeably hushed

"He lived through the attack?"

"So did Kroonen and Ambessa."

Miranda was silent again, and Drake tried to listen to see if she was crying. He still couldn't figure out what his reason was for calling her. After almost a full minute of silence, however, he could hardly stand it.

"Miranda, I don't know if I can do this."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know. It's just… After Vincent… there is so much that's happened. All my life, this is all I do. I lose so many people who are so important to me. But I've lost track of it all. I forgot why I ever started treasure hunting to begin with. Now all I do is work for low-life criminals and then end up running for my life while screwing them over or getting screwed over by them. At this point, I just want to leave. I just want to forget about all of this. Is that bad?"

"Of course it's not bad." Miranda said, and Drake could now hear the tenderness of her voice, an almost soft motherly tone. But there was something else in her voice that made him think she was fighting off tears. He was also beginning to tear up, but he defiantly wiped the wetness away. Now was not the time. "Nate, it is perfectly normal to want to turn and run away. Your life is in danger. Your friend's lives are in danger. I want you all back here; I want us all to be safe. I want you to leave all of this behind you and come back. But I know that deep down that's not what you want. Have you ever given up before?"

"Yeah…" Drake said, his mind wandering back to just a few months ago when he had given up, not on a job but on someone he loved.

"And how did that make you feel?"

"It was the worst decision of my life." Drake said, now settling to sit on the grass under a tree. There was no point in wiping away his tears anymore.

"So then I think you know what to do."

Drake nodded, but remembered Miranda couldn't see him.

"Yeah, I know. Thank you, Miranda."

"No problem. I'll see you soon. Oh, and Nate?"

"Yeah?"

"Give 'em hell for me, ok?"

"Sure thing."

Drake heard a click as Miranda hung up and he slipped his phone back into his pocket. He sat for at least fifteen minutes under the tree, staring at the sky deep in thought. The sun was setting and the sky was a deep purple color. How many sunsets had he stared at, lost in thought as he prepared for a job? Too many.

Drake stood up and walked back to the hotel, wiping away the tears from his face. He looked up, his eyes burning with determination. All doubt was now gone, and he was ready for what lay before him.

* * *

><p>That night, as Sully parked the rental car on the same street as he had before, there was a general air of nervousness. Drake, Sully, and Flynn were armed, but not as well as they would like to be. They were wearing street clothes and had a pistol with four extra clips each. Drake was also carrying a pack with several tools such as rope and flashlights.<p>

The group had decided that the best route to take would be over the same apartment that Flynn and Drake had been on top of earlier. They would use this vantage point to check out van Meer's camp then lower themselves into the Roman Forum. There was a long walk into the central part of the excavation area, but the shadowy darkness made it a far more effective plan than just strolling into the open forum.

When they had reached the top of the apartment, Drake pulled out his binoculars and examined the excavation camp. It was well lit and several soldiers were still patrolling the tents. However, none of the soldiers were leaving the radius of the central camp, keeping the outskirts of the Forum not only dark, but remarkably secluded. Even better, van Meer, Kroonen, and Ambessa were nowhere to be seen.

"Ready?" Drake asked, looking at Flynn and Sully. They both nodded and made their way to the edge of the apartment roof. Drake secured the rope and clipped it to the carbineer that was hooked on his belt. He quickly rappelled down the side of the building and over the small fence that would have blocked their way had they gone through the alleyway. Sully and Flynn followed him and they regrouped near the fence. They found themselves amidst a small grove of olive trees not far from the Lacus Curtius. Van Meer's camp was far off to the side, nearby the Basilica of Maxentius.

"Ok, so the Temple is part of the Regia, which is a triangle formed by the Temple of Vesta, the Temple of Divus Julius and the Temple of Antoninus and Faustina. The Temple of Antoninus is the large one in the back. The Temple of Vesta is right there, with its re-erected columns." Drake explained, pointing out each of the landmarks. "And that low one is the Temple of Divus Julius." He finished, pointing to a small cluster of walls that was the closest structure to them.

"We are much closer to van Meer's camp then I'm comfortable with." Sully muttered as he looked through the binoculars at the soldiers.

"We'll be fine." Drake reassured him. "Let's go."

Silently, they started creeping along the Forum with weapons in hand. Drake was thankful that the moon provided enough light to avoid obstacles but not enough to expose them. Thus far, everything was going better than expected. This caused him to tense up and be especially on edge.

They soon reached the small, crumbling walls of the Temple Divus Julius and the group took cover to regroup and make a plan.

"Alright, so far so good." Drake whispered, looking around the ruins. "Now, this is the hard part. We have to find something, anything, that might point us in the right direction."

"I'm not gonna lie, Nate. This place is a goddam trash heap. And small too." Sully said, lighting a cigar as he inspected the ruins. "I can't imagine that archaeologists didn't find the sword already."

"Well it must be very well hidden." Drake said as he looked over the wall to van Meer's camp. "And besides, there is always the possibility that we are just going to find another hint to the sword's true location."

"I sure as bloody hell hope not!" Flynn said angrily. "I'm sick of running around looking for this thing. If we can't find it here I say we go home."

"Yeah, nice try Flynn." Drake said absently. "Listen, if you really don't want to help us look around, you can get the easy job. Stand over near the front of the Temple and signal us if any soldiers are coming over, ok?"

"Better than getting all frustrated looking for something we won't find." He grumbled, walking over to one of the front walls, crouching behind it but keeping his head poked over.

"His attitude is really beginning to piss me off." Sully said, glaring at Flynn.

"Leave him alone, Sully." Drake said, turning around to examine the Temple's walls. "Let's just focus on finding this sword."

Drake walked around the Temple for several minutes, inspecting the walls and floor for any signs that might help him. He couldn't find any, and eventually came upon the altar of the Temple. The altar was actually not there, but a small mound with flowers was in its place. The small mound was under a makeshift roof that had been constructed to protect it from the weather, and a railing surrounded the area to protect it from curious trespassers. A small plaque written in Italian read "_Ara di Cesare__...__ deposero la spoglia di Cesare nel foro__.__ La dove e l__'__antica reggia dei Romani__,__ e vi accumularono sopra tavole__,__ sedili e quanto altro legname era li__...__ accese po il fuoco e tutto il popolo assistette al rogo durante la notte__.__ In quel luogo venne eretta dapprima un__'__ara__,__ oro vi e il tempio dello stesso Cesare__,__ nel quale egli e onorato come un dio__._"

"What does it mean?" Sully asked, appearing behind him. Drake quickly looked over the plaque again and translated.

"Altar of Caesar ... they laid the remains of Caesar in the forum. Where it was the ancient palace of the Romans, we piled on tables, seats, and more lumber there ... lighted some fire and all the people witnessed the burning during the night. In that place was first built an altar there, and the golden temple of Caesar himself, in which he was honored as a god."

Drake looked at Sully who nodded and they both hopped over the railing. They carefully picked their way around the flowers and started inspecting the mound and walls around it.

"There's nothing here." Drake said after a few minutes, clearly disappointed.

"Hey Nate, didn't you say there used to be a niche?"

"Yeah, where that wall is behind the altar." He muttered, gesturing to the back wall as he inspected a different wall. "But like I said it was blocked up ages ago. Why?"

"Come look at this."

Drake walked over to join Sully, who was standing at the wall where the niche used to be. Sully was pushing lightly against one of the bricks, which shifted slightly. Drake looked closer and saw that the mortar, which was of a different and worse quality than the rest of the structure's mortar, had begun to erode, loosening the bricks. Sully braced himself against the wall and placed all his weight on the brick, which gave way and tumbled through the wall.

"They didn't fill it up, they just blocked it off." He said with a smug grin. Drake stared in disbelief. Was it that easy?

"Well don't just stand there with your goddamn jaw hanging open, help me out!" Sully said, and Drake snapped back to reality.

The two men stood side by side and braced themselves. Together, they launched forward and rammed into the wall. Dust trickled from between the bricks and they kept pushing. Some of the bricks began to move slightly when Drake and Sully pulled back, already covered in a thin veil of sweat.

"Christ that hurt my shoulder." Sully complained, rubbing his entire arm. "Let's hope we only have to do that a few more times."

Drake nodded and the men repeated the process, launching themselves forward and slamming into the bricks then pushing against them. Each time they did it, several of the bricks would shift in place, and after the third time some began to fall.

In one final burst, Drake and Sully launched themselves against the wall. They didn't have to push this time, as the entire wall crumbled as soon as they made contact. The two men toppled into the niche and lay on top of the bricks that had collapsed, panting heavily.

"I hope that wasn't too loud." Drake said, standing up and dusting himself off.

"Who gives a damn about sound, where the hell is the sword?" Sully said angrily, and Drake took a look around the niche for the first time. Sully was right, there was no sword. The niche wasn't even that big, having only been constructed to house a man-sized statue.

"Maybe the bricks are on top of it?" Drake proposed, but Sully shook his head.

"Face it kid. Dead end. There's nothing here. We must have made a mistake somewhere along the way."

"No, it has to be here!" Drake said, digging through the bricks desperately. He was terrified that he had been wrong and failed them all. Maybe all of this was for nothing.

"Kid…" Sully said, standing up and walking to Drake's side.

"Nate, come on, cut it out." He said gently as Drake kept digging furiously through the rubble. He laid a hand on Drake's shoulder, but was just pushed away.

"Goddamn it Nate, there's nothing there! Put your pride away for a second and calm down!"

"No! No, Sully, I know it's here. It has to be here!" Drake yelled, finally revealing the floor. There was nothing there. Drake dropped to his knees and sat in silence. Sully stooped next to him and draped an arm over Drake's shoulders in support.

"Hey, listen we can figure this out. We always do. Let's go get Flynn. We've been really loud and we need to get out. Come on." Sully tried to lift Drake, who sat rigidly, now staring at the wall. "Nate, let's go."

"Sully, do you see it?"

"See what, Nate?"

"There, in the wall." Drake said, pointing. Sully looked but could see nothing.

"There's nothing there, kid. Now get up and get moving, you're making me think you've lost your mind."

"No, Sully, look from this angle!" Drake said, pulling Sully down. "I'm not crazy. The way the light hits it, you can't see it except for down here."

Sully squinted at the wall, then his eyes widened in surprise. He pulled a flashlight out of Drake's bag and shined it on the wall where they were looking.

"Well, I'll be damned." Sully whispered.

On the wall was a small golden imprint of Caesar's Comet. Drake pulled out the seal and held it next to the marking.

"They're the same size." He whispered. He turned to Sully with a gleam in his eyes. "What do you think?"

"Try it." Sully said with a smile.

Drake lined up the seal on top of the imprint and was about to press it down when a loud thud was heard to his left. Drake turned in time to see Flynn get thrown over and lay face down on the dirt. Drake rushed over and squatted down to examine his friend, who had been hit across the face and was bleeding from his nose.

"Easy job my ass…" Flynn muttered.

Drake was still squatting next to Flynn when he felt cold metal press against the back of his head.

"You know the procedure, Mr. Drake."

"Yeah, yeah. Gun down, hands in the air, don't say anything, and stand up slowly." Drake said sarcastically.

"Very good. Now do it."  
>Drake turned to look at Sully, who was also being held at gunpoint by two soldiers. He tossed his gun to the side and slowly stood up. When he reached his full height, Drake turned his head over his shoulder and spoke to his captor.<p>

"How was that, Jozeph? Did I pass?"

Kroonen pistol-whipped Drake, who fell to the floor clutching his bleeding head.

"How about we try that again, Mr. Drake. And this time, remain silent. Or I will shoot your fingers off, one by one."

Drake stood obediently without saying a word. He decided that making a witty comment was not worth losing his fingers. Kroonen walked Drake over to the side and two soldiers came in, lifting Flynn to his feet and holding him at gunpoint as well. Once Drake, Flynn, and Sully were herded together, Kroonen lifted his radio to his mouth and sent out a message to van Meer.

"Piet, we found them. I'm sending a soldier over to bring you to us." Kroonen gestured to one of the soldiers as he spoke and the man jogged off in the direction of van Meer's camp.

"So what's your take on all this, Jozeph." Flynn said, wiping his bloody face off on his shirt. "The loyal dog to van Meer? Willing to do anything to keep his owner happy?"

Kroonen walked over to Flynn and Drake anticipated the beating Flynn was about to receive. But instead, Kroonen just smirked.

"You think you are so clever, Mr. Flynn? Are you really in a better position than I am? Tell me, is it difficult being constantly in the shadow of Nathan Drake? Do you work for him because you are loyal to him, or because you are greedy?"

"I don't work for him, asshole. I work with him."

There was a moment of silence where Kroonen looked from Flynn to Drake.

"Is this true, Mr. Drake? Do you consider Mr. Flynn your equal?"

"Of course." Drake responded, but not without a guilty look in Flynn's direction.

"Not very convincing." Kroonen said with another wicked smirk. "Do not feel ashamed at the lack of loyalty, I too work for Piet out of greed. I have come upon great amounts of money under his guidance. I consider him a friend, but he is not my master. I work for him because I will equally benefit. More than you can say, Mr. Flynn."

Flynn was about to say something, but Sully cut him off.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess that you believe in this plague carrying mumbo-jumbo."

"Mumbo-Jumbo?" Kroonen asked, arching an eyebrow. "I would hardly call it such, Mr. Sullivan. This sword has a power that has gone unrecognized for millennia. It will be Piet and I who finally expose it to the world."

As if on cue, van Meer appeared around the corner with Ambessa and several soldiers. He walked over to Drake and stared him in the eyes. Up close, Drake could see that van Meer's eyes were bloodshot and surrounded by dark, heavy bags. His usually perfect hair was frazzled and unkempt in a sloppy ponytail. Even his sharp goatee was beginning to look frayed. Overall, the man had the appearance of somebody who was obsessed and losing sleep.

"Dhr. Drake, I have grown so tired of the same speech again and again. Why is it that you cannot simply remain captured? This game simply cannot go on any longer." Drake almost felt bad for van Meer. Even his voice sounded weary and beaten down.

"What is it that you have discovered here?" van Meer asked as he inspected the toppled wall and exposed niche. Drake said nothing, opting instead to stare at his former employer. Van Meer walked over to him, scowled angrily, pulled out his gun and shot a nearby soldier in the head.

"Tell me what you have discovered, or Dhr. Sullivan will be next. If I am willing to kill my man I am certainly willing to kill yours. Tell me, now!" Van Meer screamed, losing all composure.

"You've lost your bloody mind." Flynn yelled, staring at the body of the slaughtered soldier.

"Have I, Dhr. Flynn? Well that may very well be so, but it is entirely due to you three, so I see no reason why I shouldn't kill you now! My only solace is in knowing that I will get to see you suffer at the hands of the very artifact you so desperately pursue. This game is over, you have lost." He turned back to Drake, pointing his weapon directly at Sully's head. "Tell me what you found!" He screamed, his finger twitching over the trigger.

"Ok, ok I'll tell you!" Drake said, pulling the seal back out of his pocket. "On the wall, over there." Drake pointed at the niche and van Meer turned, shining a light on the wall.

"There is a gold imprint in the shape of Caesar's Comet. Press the seal into it." Drake said dejectedly as he handed the seal to van Meer.

"You made the right choice, Mr. Drake." Kroonen said, nodding to Drake.

Van Meer walked slowly over to the wall and stared at the golden imprint for almost a full minute.

"If you are wrong, I will kill both Dhr. Sullivan and Dhr. Flynn." van Meer whispered softly. Drake didn't respond and van Meer pressed the seal into the golden imprint. He pushed harder and the seal sank into the wall perfectly. There was a soft sound of turning gears and the seal started to rotate within the wall. For a few seconds nothing happened. Then the ground started to shake softly. The shaking became much stronger and the soldier's began to look around and whisper in fear.

"What is this?" Ambessa said, loading his gun as if it could protect him from the shaking earth.

Van Meer's face took on a look of transcendental joy as the ground began to crack in various place and the sound of gears turning became even louder.

"Look at the altar!" Kroonen cried out, pointing at the mound. Sure enough, the mound where the altar had once been was opening up and exposing a deep pit. Drake stared into the deep chasm and his mouth dropped open when he saw a set of crafted marble stairs rise out of the ground.

The shaking came to a stop and the gears quieted down. Van Meer stared at the staircase and his eyes welled up with tears of joy. Kroonen stepped forward and brushed his hand along the stairs.

"Incredible." He whispered to himself.

Van Meer pulled the seal out of the wall and walked over to join Kroonen, gazing down into the stairwell. He gestured to Ambessa and the soldiers, who came in closer. Van Meer started to walk down, but everybody else hesitated. Nobody had expected this. Van Meer looked around and smiled, his emerald eyes glistening with a strange kind of madness that can only be brought about by an insatiable hunger for something just out of your reach. And yet this madman was the one who was leading them.

"What are you all waiting for? Let's go make history."


	15. Chapter 14

_**CHAPTER 14**_

Van Meer led the ensemble of soldiers as they descended the marble staircase that had risen out of the ground in the Roman Forum. Drake, Flynn, and Sully were forced to stay in the back, with Kroonen walking directly behind them. Ambessa trailed by several feet and was marking their trail by placing several small devices along the walls of the stairwell. When they reached the bottom of the stairwell, van Meer stepped on a tile that lowered slightly under his body weight. The stairs immediately started grinding and rotating again, dropping away from the surface and deep underground once more.

"This is amazing." Drake said, peering at the floor. Van Meer lifted his foot and the tile he had stepped on raised back up. "Whoever built this cavern was definitely an inventor of some sort. This kind of technology was only seen in high class temples."

"They had technology like this?" van Meer asked, still leading the way forward.

"Oh, of course. This kind of technology was used in temples to set off aesthetic triggers such as fog or floating statues. That kind of stuff. Made people believe the gods were present in the temple. Romans were true revolutionaries when it came to mechanical engineering and pneumatics." Drake explained, enthralled by the grandeur of the marble tunnel. He also took note of another gold imprint of Caesar's Comet next to where the stairwell had descended; this was probably how the stairs could be summoned again.

"Pneumatics and machinery just means that we need to be careful." Kroonen said, and instinctively some of the soldiers raised their weapons. Kroonen looked at them and scowled. "Put those down before you hurt someone. Guns can't help you if you set off some type of trap."

Van Meer and Kroonen led the group further until they came upon a portion of the tunnel where the marble was replaced with gold. This smaller chamber had only one entrance, however. They had come in one way, but were now facing a solid gold wall.

"A dead end? That's impossible!" Van Meer yelled, running over to the wall. The soldiers all crowded into the room and Drake gazed around.

"Don't touch anything, and be careful where you step." He whispered to Sully and Flynn.

"Jozeph, what is this?" van Meer asked his assistant, who had joined him at the wall. Kroonen leaned in close.

"There's something here…" He whispered. At eye level on the wall was what appeared to be several dials with letters on them. Kroonen reached out to spin one of the dials.

"No, don't touch it!" Drake yelled.

It was too late, however, and just as Kroonen turned the dial the entrance behind them was suddenly sealed by a large sliding door also made of solid gold.

"It's a trap!" Ambessa yelled, slamming his fists against the door. Drake started looking around, waiting to see what would happen. The room fell silent as everybody nervously awaited whatever danger the trap had in store.

Drake was standing for only a few seconds when he felt something lightly drizzle on his head. It was sand. He looked up and the steady stream of sand ran into his face and eyes. He let out a small cry and stepped back, wiping his eyes.

"Oh no…" van Meer whispered as everyone turned to look at the stream of sand. It was pouring out from one small hole in the center of the roof and had now become a steady flow that was already piling up and spreading across the floor. "We have to get out of here!" He shouted pressing himself against the wall. The soldiers did the same and panic began to ensue. The soldiers began pushing and shoving each other to get to the edges of the walls as the sand now began to fill the room so that they were no longer standing on a gold floor but an inch of sand.

Drake was struggling through the group of pushing soldiers when he got accidentally slammed against a wall. As he tried to pull away, he noticed a small engraving. VIII-M.

"What the hell?" He said, looking down the wall. Another engraving was slightly higher up but still close by. This one read XXII-K. Drake pulled out his journal and quickly wrote them down. He looked at the wall and noticed other similar engravings on the wall.

"Flynn! Sully!" Drake said, reching out for his friends. "There are letters written on the walls, read them out to me!"

"What are you doing?" Kroonen said, grabbing Drake.

"There are letters written on the wall, and odds are we need them to get out."

Kroonen nodded and went to the walls to read out more letter

"I-P!"

"X-M!"

"XV-N"

Slowly, the four men were able to find and read out all of the letters, which Drake wrote down into his journal.

"That's all of them Nate!" Flynn shouted from across the chamber, and Drake looked carefully at the series of letters. The sand was now halfway up their shins.

"I don't think they're all letters." Drake said, scribbling in his journal. "I think the letters in front of the dash are roman numerals, and the letters after are actual letters. I'm going to try putting them all in order." Drake quickly wrote in his journal then stared at it. "It doesn't make any sense." He mumbled, and Kroonen struggled through the knee deep sand to join him.

"PBKXQRPMLMRHRPNRBOLIXKRP?" Kroonen read, looking at Drake in confusion. "What does that mean?"

"Hurry up kid!" Sully shouted, and for the first time Drake really looked around the room. The sand was now up to his waist, and many of the soldiers were stuck in place. A few of the soldiers had at some point gotten knocked to the floor and were now almost entirely covered in sand but unable to move. Drake tried to push himself above the sand, but his body kept getting sucked down.

"Is it an anagram?" Flynn asked peering at the journal. Drake was sweating furiously, and had just become aware of how much he was shaking. The sand level was increasing and Drake knew that if he didn't solve the puzzle soon he was going to die with all these other men.

"It's a code!" Kroonen shouted, snatching the journal out of Drake's hands. "Didn't Caesar invent the Cipher Wheel?"

Drake's eyes lit up as he realized what Kroonen was thinking. He looked at the journal but frowned.

"Yes, but there's no cipher key to solve it. Is it written on the wall?"

"No." Kroonen said, shaking his head and knitting his eyebrows together in thought. "Caesar used the same key for all of his ciphers… I believe it was four…"

"So what the hell does that mean?" Flynn asked, out of breath from the chest high sand putting pressure on his lungs.

"It means that A is equal to D, B is equal to E, and so on." Drake explain, trying to pull himself out of the sand and make his way to the wall. "Can you solve it, Jozeph?"

Kroonen nodded and started scribbling in the journal. Drake fought his way to the wall, half crawling half walking through the sand that was now almost at armpit level. Drake reached the wall and looked at the small dials. There were 24 in total, each one with the 23 letters of the Roman alphabet.

"Hurry, Jozeph!" van Meer shouted.

The sand was now up to Drakes shoulders, and he fought to keep his arms above the sand level. Everybody in the room was shouting, and Drake turned back to see Kroonen was trying to tell him something. From across the room, however, he couldn't hear.

"What?" Drake shouted back. Kroonen struggled to get as much air in his crushed lungs and shouted back.

"SPQR!"

Drake turned and immediately started turning the dials. SPQR, the acronym that was used on the symbol for the government of the Roman Republic. Fortunately, Drake knew what it stood for. He quickly started turning the dial as the sand began to reach his chin. He spluttered as the sand began to cover his mouth and he turned the last dial into place. Senātus Populus Que Rōmānus.

As soon as the dial clicked, the stream of sand stopped. Drake lifted his head, trying to breathe through his nose without inhaling sand. After a second, the sand level slowly began to drop. There was also the sound of pneumatic devices draining the sand through the floor and carrying it up the walls, probably beck to the ceiling.

When all the sand was cleared, Drake laid on the ground out of breath and covered in sand. Anti-climactically, the wall with the dials on it slid down into the ground, opening up the passageway as if nothing had happened. Drake stood and stumbled through, leaning against the wall.

"We have six dead." Ambessa called out. Drake looked back and took note of the six men he was talking about, six soldiers who had either been too short or pushed to the floor. Van Meer and Kroonen joined Drake outside the chamber and nodded a silent thanks. He had saved their lives. Ambessa, Flynn, Sully, and the thirteen remaining soldiers also came out, and the group continued their walk into the caverns.

* * *

><p>After a few minutes of walked, the group came upon a large golden gate that blocked their route. In the center of the gate was a small circle with the engraving of Caesar's Comet.<p>

"Looks as though this seal has been more useful than we originally believed." Van Meer said with a confident smirk.

Van Meer pulled the seal out of his pocket and pressed it into the engraving. There was a click and the seal turned halfway. The gate unlocked, and van Meer stepped forward to push it open.

There was a synchronized gasp as everybody saw what it was the lied beyond the gate. A cavern, far larger than any of the caverns Drake had come across in the Corinth underground. This one was huge and carved out of the stone as opposed to marble like the passage they had just come through. The walls were lined up and down with torches that lit the entire cavern. It was about half a mile in diameter, and several hundred feet high. The most impressive thing was a lattice system of bridges that ran all the way up to the roof of the cavern. The bridges spanned across the cavern's gap and led from tunnel to tunnel.

As the soldiers started walking through the cavern, Drake took note of the gate they had just walked through. He noticed several dents and scratches that were on this side that hadn't been on the other.

"Hey, Sully, check it out." Drake whispered, nudging Sully and pointing out the marks.

"Looks like something was trying to get out of here." Sully whispered in return. "Let's stay on our toes."

"Which way do we go?" Van Meer asked, looking around at the several different tunnels. There were eight total, and van Meer was walking rapidly from each one to the next.

"It's the same pattern as Caesar's Comet." Kroonen said, looking at the seal which he had used to re-lock the gate. "My guess is that it's the tunnel that would be the portion of the star that's on fire." He continued, looking up at the tunnels. "The middle left one…" He said, pointing out the passage. "This way."

Kroonen led the group down the tunnel, and van Meer ran to the front. Drake stayed towards the back, still on edge and nervous. After seeing the scratches on the door, he felt as if he was being followed. Some terrifying creature could be lurking around the corner, ready to tear them to shreds.

Soon, they reached a large arch which led into a massive golden chamber, similar to the sand trap chamber they had been in before. But this one was perfectly circular, and in the middle was a large golden pedestal, and on the pedestal was the Crocea Mors.

Everybody in the room fell silent. The group filtered into the chamber and circled around the sword, unable to take their eyes off it. The Crocea Mors was beautiful, crafted like an ordinary Roman gladius, but at the same time extraordinarily different. Being crafted from Corinthian Bronze, it had a gold color that had an additional distinctive pallor that made it different from the gold of the room that surrounded it. While it had some apparent wear, it was entirely clean and untarnished.

For several minutes, the entire room admired the sword. Finally, van Meer slowly walked forward and gently lifted the blade from its place on the pedestal.

"I have it…" He whispered softly, cradling it in his arms like a child. "The most powerful weapon in the world is mine."

"Be careful with it, Piet." Kroonen said, stepping forward. "Remember that even the smallest cut will kill you."

"Oh yeah, Piet. We don't want you to get hurt or anything." Drake said sarcastically. Ambessa stepped forward to strike him when van Meer raised a commanding hand.

"No! No, it's quite alright Mason." Van Meer started walking towards Drake, his eyes glimmering in a particularly insidious manner. "Is that jealousy that I detect in your voice, Dhr. Drake? Perhaps you wish that you could be the one holding the Crocea Mors?" He lifted the blade and pressed it against Drake's throat. "How does it feel, knowing that you have failed?" Van Meer whispered, and Drake stared him dead in the eyes.

"Not quite as good as it felt beating your ass all the way here." Drake said bitterly.

"Tsk. No need to be a sore loser, Dr. Drake." Van Meer said, waving a chiding finger at Drake and lowering the sword.

"Loser? You're joking! I did all the work! You just dragged your lazy ass behind me and picked up the pieces. The only reason you have the sword now is because of Hulk over here carrying you up to the top of the food chain." Drake said, jerking his thumb at Ambessa. Van Meer raised the edge of the sword to Drake's throat as his eyes lit with the same insane fire Drake had seen at the Forum.

"Piet van Meer is second to no one!" He shouted furiously. "Not to the authorities, not to my mysterious competitor, and certainly not to the famous Nathan Drake! This sword proves that. To you, and the world."

"Are you proving it to the world, or to yourself?" Drake asked dryly. "Besides, the Crocea Mors is nothing but an expensive sword. Quit making a big deal about it like it is some great weapon. Only a kid would believe that it carries a curse."

"No curse, Dhr. Drake. A plague, the world's first form of biological warfare." Van Meer said, rearing back the blade. "Perhaps you need a demonstration?"

"Don't do it, Piet!" Kroonen shouted, and van Meer turned in surprise.

"Why not?"

"Because, we don't know what other tricks this cavern may have in store for us. We may need him to escape traps."

"Fine." Van Meer scowled. "Well how about the old man? Or perhaps Dhr. Flynn?"

"If you hurt them then there is no way I will help you." Drake said coolly. Van Meer looked to Kroonen, who nodded.

"Kill them at the surface." Kroonen said. "Let's get out of this hell-hole first."

Ambessa decided to lead the way this time, and as they were walking out Flynn leaned in close to Drake.

"Well that was uncharacteristically kind of our friend Jozeph." He muttered.

"I know." Drake whispered back, but said nothing more. He was already thinking the same thing. Why did Kroonen want him alive? Was there some ulterior motive?

"Hey kid, check this out." Sully said, appearing on Drake's side. In his hand was a small bust of Caesar's head made of pure gold. "There was a bunch of figurines all made of gold lying around that chamber back there. I grabbed a couple and snuck them in my bag. If we get out of this alive, they've got to be worth a couple thousand each."

"That's real nice Victor, but let's keep our eyes on the real prize." Flynn whispered, ignoring the critical gaze of a nearby soldier. "That sword has got my name and a vacation in Fiji written all over it."

"Shut your mouths!" The soldier next to Flynn barked, and they obliged.

Drake hung his head as he continued walking. He had failed, and it was beginning to sink in. Van Meer had the Crocea Mors. There was no way they could stop him, and soon they would be killed.

Ambessa and his soldiers were waiting in the central cavern with all the bridges that ran above them when Drake, Flynn, and Sully finally caught up. Ambessa waited for van Meer and Kroonen, who were taking up the back.

"Ready to go?" He asked as Kroonen entered the room and took out the seal. Kroonen nodded and approached the gate. He placed the seal into the engraving in the middle and the seal turned like it had the first time, unlocking the gate.

As soon as the gate was unlocked, it burst open, knocking Kroonen to the ground and causing the seal to fall to the ground. A group of Operatives, approximately 25, ran into the room and encircled the group, one of them dragging Kroonen into the center.

"Kak!" Ambessa shouted, immediately realizing that he was vastly outnumbered. "Put down your guns." He said to his men, who had already done so. The Operatives were all carrying automatic rifles which they had aimed at the soldiers.

"You got to be kidding me." Drake said, raising his arms in surrender. Sully, Flynn, and Kroonen did the same. Only van Meer did not raise his arms, opting instead to keep them protectively wrapped around the Crocea Mors.

Once the Operatives had them fully encircled, one of them stepped forward to van Meer.

"Piet van Meer, hand me the Crocea Mors." The Operative said, his voice deadpan. Drake noticed that this Operative spoke much better English than the other, but had an accent that was more Spanish then Dutch. So the Operatives were not exclusively Dutch. This was news to him.

"Who do you work for?" van Meer asked, glaring at the Operative. The man signaled to another Operative, who shot one of the soldiers who was standing next to Sully.

"Jesus Christ!" Sully shouted, backing away from the man and wiping the blood off his face.

"Give us the Crocea Mors or we will kill everybody. We could kill you and take the sword, but our employer would rather that not happen. So please, just hand it over." The Operative said, holding out his hand expectantly.

Van Meer hesitated, and another Operative shot down a soldier.

"Give him the bloody sword!" Flynn shouted, and van Meer turned sharply.

"No!"

An Operative killed another soldier, and the Operative in front of van Meer pulled out his gun and pointed it at van Meer.

"Give us the sword, now!"

Van Meer lashed out with the sword, nearly cutting the Operative who stumbled back out of fear and surprise. Another soldier was shot down, and Ambessa became panicked.

"Piet, these men are seriously going to kill all of us!"

"I don't care!" van Meer screamed, his hair once again wild and his eyes frantic. It occurred to Drake that van Meer had gone literally insane.

"Piet, Piet, listen to me." Kroonen said, running forward and holding up his hands. "Please, stop this and just listen to me. These men are going to kill us. All of us. All they want is the sword. You heard them; their employer wants as few casualties as possible."

"We can't, Jozeph. We have come so far. We have achieved so much. Our life goal, the Crocea Mors is in our possession. We can't give it up. Not now, or ever." Van Meer had grown calm again, and his voice was sad. At this point, he knew that he would die protecting the sword.

"Piet, if you don't hand them the sword, they will kill you and take it. No matter what, we will lose it. Hand it to them, maybe one day we can take it back. But I don't want to be killed here. Not now."

Van Meer stared at Kroonen for several seconds, and for a moment Drake thought he was going to hand over the sword. But then van Meer shook his head, holding the sword closer to his body.

"I won't give it up." He whispered.

Kroonen's face darkened and he started nodding. He let out a heavy sigh and closed his eyes, lowering his head.

"I really did not want to have to do this."

In the blink of an eye, Kroonen pulled his pistol out from his holster and shot van Meer.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: Sorry about the hiatus everybody, I've been pretty busy with some work-related issues as of late. I've uploaded two chapters in one day to hopefully make up for my time absent. Another chapter is soon coming. To the few loyal fans who I have retained, I hope you enjoyed these chapters. We're definitely getting kind of intense in the story, and I'm trying to keep you on the edge of your seat. Leave me some reviews, let me know how it's coming along and if you'd like to see any changes. Thanks again everybody, until next time! <strong>_


	16. Chapter 15

_**CHAPTER 15**_

Van Meer stumbled back, eyes wide and mouth agape. He tripped and fell onto his back, the sword clanging to the ground in front of him. Van Meer laid there, his face frozen in surprise, blood seeping from his side. But he was still alive, as Drake could tell from the shallow movements of his chest.

As soon as van Meer hit the ground, Ambessa let out an inhuman roar and lunged towards Kroonen. One of the Operatives reacted quickly enough to swing his gun at Ambessa like a baseball bat. The butt of the gun connected with the large man's head, causing him to stumble back and start bleeding from the forehead. Kroonen turned and pointed his gun at Ambessa's head.

"Another move like that, Mason, and it will be your last."

"What the hell do you think you're doing!" Ambessa growled, a vicious snarl on his face. "You've killed Piet!"

"Oh no, he's not dead." Kroonen said, looking down at van Meer whose pallid face now showed a mixed look of pain and confusion. "I shot him in a very specific place that will keep him on the verge of death for about an hour." Kroonen explained, smiling sweetly at van Meer as if shooting him had been a favor.

"Why would you do that?" Ambessa asked, still seething with rage. "Just to save your own skin?" Kroonen laughed a deep bellowing laugh that Drake had not expected from the stoic man. In fact, Kroonen now seemed like a different man altogether. He was confident and powerful, a strange and ambitious glint now in his eyes, strongly contrasting his previous drone-like façade.

"I know you're not that bright, Mason, but you're not stupid. You must have figured it out by now." Kroonen walked over to a nearby Operative and draped his arm around the man. "I was never in any danger. These men work for me."

Ambessa narrowed his eyes to slits, and Drake swore that he could feel a physical heat emanating from the man's hatred.

"Traitor." Ambessa hissed, provoking another bellowing laugh from Kroonen. Van Meer groaned, and Kroonen turned to him, still smirking.

"What's wrong Piet? Confused that I could pull this all off on my own? Are you shocked that I didn't need help from you, Mason, or Vincent to get something done?"

"Vincent!" Drake said, suddenly realizing what about the scenario seemed so familiar. Kroonen turned, eyebrow arched. "That's the same place you shot Vincent! You did that on purpose, didn't you? Drake questioned as he pointed to the wound in van Meer's side. "You meant for Vincent to live."

"Very good, Mr. Drake!" Kroonen said, nodding. "Yes, I wanted Vincent to live. He was extraordinarily useful to my cause. When Piet told me to kill him, I immediately realized the problem with that. What if something went wrong or the sword we had you retrieve was the wrong one? We would still need his help. So I made a very quick decision. When the explosion went off I shot him in an area where he wouldn't die for quite some time, hoping that you would save him. I then instructed my men to track you down wherever you went and follow your paper trail as best as possible. That way, I would have an indirect access to all of the information that Vincent gave you."

"That explains the Operatives following us in London, but what about in Austria? Why would you try to steal the sword before we even returned it?" Flynn asked, his eyebrows knitted together as he tried to piece together the puzzle.

"Well, I needed to remain as anonymous as possible for as long as possible. If I stole the sword in Austria, Piet would have no idea it was me."

"What about the ship?" Ambessa said, slightly calmed down from his initial rage. "You put yourself at risk by bombing the same ship you were on."

"No risk there, Mason. I planned it perfectly and had a lifeboat prepared to go. The attack itself was intended to simply lessen my opposition. I didn't have to deal with any gunfights when I revealed myself thanks to the attack on the ship cutting down your numbers. That lifeboat's the one Piet and I got to. Weren't you at all curious as to how that lifeboat I used was ready within minutes of the attack? You would have come with us if it weren't for your bloodthirsty need to kill Mr. Drake, Mr. Flynn, and Mr. Fawkes. I was fine with you leaving, because I could afford for you to die."

"But if you were intending to kill Piet now, why not then?" Ambessa asked, still staring at Kroonen with undisguised loathing.

"At that point, he was still an asset. Just as useful as Vincent, or even Nathan. Besides," Kroonen continued, using his foot to prop up van Meer's head, which had dropped to the side. "This is far more amusing; to have him slaughtered just when he thought he would come out of this whole crusade victorious."

"That's all very interesting and well planned, Jozeph." Sully said, keeping a protective hand on his bag that was full of gold. "But isn't it all a bit much for this one sword? I mean, is it really worth that much?"

"Oh, much more than you could possibly imagine." Kroonen said, reaching down and picking up the sword. "And I don't just mean money."

"Ah great, another world domination story?" Drake said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "I swear, everybody goes after these treasures hoping to use their 'mystical powers' to 'rule the world' and blah blah blah. Really, Jozeph, it's a _sword_. That's it."

"I understand your skepticism, Mr. Drake. Don't worry, all will be made clear. But first, I should start with my story."

Drake groaned and Flynn smiled softly, appreciating Drake's ever present good humor. Kroonen looked at Drake as if considering whether or not to beat him, but decided against it and ignored the groan.

"All my life, all I ever wanted to do was serve my nation. For six generations, my family has fought for our country in every way possible. When it came to be my turn, I didn't waste a second signing up for the Korps Mariniers. Yes, I had always loved history and been interested in archaeology, but I had a duty. You can imagine my disappointment when I realized just how weak our military was." Kroonen snarled, a stream of memories filling his head and bringing back sensations of great hatred. "Cowards, all of them! I was the only one with courage, but they considered my valor 'dishonorable'. I killed some of my fellow squad members in order to reach our target, and it was through my actions alone that we succeeded. And yet, I was discharged from the military in the most humiliating of ways."

"What a goddamn sob story." Sully said, pulling out a cigar "Mind if I sit down and smoke one of these until you get to the good part?"

Kroonen walked over to Sully and snatched the cigar away from him. He smelled it then scoffed, tossing it to the side.

"Cheap garbage!"

"Hey, I paid good money for that!" Sully interjected, but Kroonen waved a dismissive hand at him.

"A waste of money. Now, if you interrupt me on more time, old man, I will have Kasper shoot you in the foot." Kroonen said, gesturing to the Operative next to Sully.

"Oh, you mean the friendly ghost?" Flynn said with a cocky smile. Kasper walked over and hit him hard in the side. Flynn fell to the ground and Kasper started kicking him.

"I… Am… So… Sick… Of… Hearing… _That_!" The Operative growled, kicking Flynn with each word and giving one hard final kick at the end. He then hoisted Flynn to his feet, who stood in a daze.

"Now, where was I…" Kroonen said, striking a thoughtful pose. "Oh yes, I was just dismissed from the military." He said, smiling coldly at Drake, who had remained silent since the beginning of the story. "So, at first I was greatly disheartened, and fell into a downward spiral where I indulged some of my, how should I say, worse habits? Soon, I turned to the study of history to get me out of my slump. It was then that I learned of the Crocea Mors, a powerful weapon with the power to turn the very tides of war. A sword that carried a disease capable of killing a man within seconds. A disease that gave Caesar his killing prowess, allowed Nennius to fight significantly better in battle, and could only be matched by the brutality of Attila the Hun. And this toxic property lies within the metal components of Corinthian Bronze." He turned to Drake, and nodded to him. "You and Vincent were right in assuming that Caesar returned to Corinth in order to find a new sword. The Senate learned of this, and decided that Caesar's power would become too great if he came to possess such a sword again. So they killed Caesar and banned Corinthian Bronze. As soon as I learned of the sword, I knew that I had to control its power. With the sword, I would extract the formula for Corinthian Bronze and isolate the toxin. With such an incredible poison, the kind no man would be able to defend himself against, I would have been able to restore the Dutch army to its former glory!" Kroonen's forehead was gleaming with sweat, and his eyes were shining with pride. His life goal had finally been achieved, and it was all because of this sword.

After a few seconds of silence, Drake decided it was safe to interrupt.

"So how does van Meer get involved in all this?"

"Good question, Mr. Drake." Kroonen said, clearly not considering the question an interruption worthy of a shot foot. "And the answer is simple; I needed money. I soon realized that the Dutch military was not worth my time. Those miserable wretches disposed of me, why should I share my power with them? I deserved better. I deserved my own army. So, I started raising money to hire mercenaries and soldiers who had come from a similarly disgruntled past as myself. They trained themselves and could follow orders well, but I found it difficult to pay them. So when Piet offered me a job, I took it. And for 20 years I built up my army behind his back. When I finally felt that I was ready, I suggested the Crocea Mors. Naturally, I was not a professional historian, which is why we sought Vincent. By the time the robbery was set, we needed more expertise, which is how Mr. Flynn became involved. He, in turn, recommended you, Mr. Drake. And now we find ourselves here in this chamber, far under the Roman Forum with the Crocea Mors in hand." Kroonen gazed at the sword and then looked around, a very satisfied look on his face. "Yes, here we are."

"I hate to break it to you Jozeph, but you've wasted your time." Drake said, and Kroonen shot him a dirty look.

"And what do you mean by that?" He sneered, his cold eyes trying to calculate Drake's intention.

"I'm just saying, all of this planning, waiting, and revenge has been for nothing. The piece of metal in your hand is just that, a piece of metal." Drake said, hoping it wasn't too obvious that he was bluffing. For all he knew, the sword carried a hundred different plagues. He had definitely seen stranger things.

"Well, Mr. Drake, you have always doubted the sword. Which brings me to my next point." Kroonen said, lifting the sword and pointing it at Drake. "The demonstration."  
>"I swear to god if you hurt him…" Sully growled threateningly, bunching his hands into fists. He took a step forward and Kasper looked to Kroonen to see if he should hit Sully, but Kroonen shook his head.<p>

"Don't worry, Mr. Sullivan. The three of you will die very peacefully with a simple bullet through the head. I respect you too much to kill you with this sword. But I do want you to see and believe in its power." He turned towards van Meer and crouched low. "Here is the only reason I have kept you alive you miserable kankerlijer." Van Meer's eyes widened in fear.

"Please… Jozeph, don't. Don't kill me. We have been such good friends…" He pleaded, his voice feeble and blood dripping from his mouth over his goatee.

"Friends?" Kroonen said, sounding incredulous. "You believe us to be friends? Tell me, Nathan," Kroonen continued, turning to Drake "in the short time you have known us, has Piet treated me as a friend? As an equal?" He turned sharply back to van Meer and glared. "No! You always treated me as your inferior. You disrespected me! And you never listened or trusted me even though I have always been right! You have never treated me as a friend, I have never considered us friends, and you have no idea how satisfying it is to finally do _this_!" Kroonen shouted.

As he said "this", Kroonen swung down the blade and cut deeply into van Meer's arm. Van Meer stared at the wound in fear and Drake felt his heart start racing with anticipation. After a second, van Meer grabbed his arm in pain and started screaming. Blood began to drip from his nose and the tear ducts of his eyes. He pulled his hand away from his wound and Drake saw that the skin around it seemed to be boiling. The bubbling spread to the rest of van Meer's body and he started seizing on the ground. It was only after a few seconds when his flesh stopped bubbling and his nose and eyes stopped bleeding. Van Meer lay on the ground absolutely still; his skin was now loose fitting and already partially decayed, his eyes red from burst blood vessels, and his body contorted. Piet van Meer was dead.

* * *

><p>Several minutes later, people finally began to react. There was a general air of disgust mixed with fascination. Kroonen, meanwhile, was entirely enthralled.<p>

"It's so beautiful." He whispered. "Better than I would have ever hoped."

"We have to get the hell out of here." Sully whispered to Drake.

"Ok, I have a plan." He whispered back, and Flynn leaned in.

"Do you actually have a plan, or are you just saying that?"

"Well, I'm coming up with one." Drake said with a shrug.

"Goddamn it, Nate. This is no time for improvising!" Sully said, staring fearfully at the Crocea Mors.

"Alright, alright. When I give you the signal, just run like hell."

"What's the signal?" Flynn asked, becoming aware that Kasper was watching them.

"You'll know it when you see it." He whispered, just as Kasper came over and separated them.

"What should we do with these three?" The Operative asked. Kroonen looked over, seeming to have forgotten that Drake, Sully, and Flynn were there.

"We will kill them, of course." Kroonen said, kneeling down to examine van Meer's body more closely. "You can go ahead and do it now, if you'd like. I don't really care. I have what I came for.

"This'll be fun." Kasper said, laughing as he stepped in front of Flynn. "You'll be first." He said, raising his rifle and pointing it at Flynn's head. "Then you." He said, pointing at Sully almost accusingly.

"Aw man, I always get picked last." Drake said, mocking sadness.

"Please tell me you know how to shoot that thing." Flynn said to Kasper, smirking at him while keeping an eye on the barrel of the gun. "Or are you as stupid as you look?"

The Operative frowned then scowled at Flynn and took aim, but just before he took the shot, Kasper's body jolted as something struck him from behind. His eyes widened in surprise, and blood began to drip from his nose. Then his eyes. He cried out in pain, trying to reach around and pull out an arrow that was protruding from his back. His skin started bubbling and he fell to his knees and started seizing. Soon, the Operative was dead and his body resembled that of van Meer's.

"What the hell did you do?" Kroonen said, striding angrily over to Flynn, who raised his hands in defense. Ambessa, meanwhile, bent down and examined the arrow.

"This is Corinthian Bronze." He said as he peered at the tip. He looked up to where the arrow had come down from. "Get down!" Ambessa shouted, just as another arrow flew over his head and thudded into the chest of a soldier behind him. Another arrow flew down, skimming the shoulder of an Operative. The scratch was enough to kill him.

"Don't let the tips touch you!" Ambessa shouted as arrows continued to hail down from the bridges above them. While Kroonen was distracted, Drake bolted.

"This is the signal!" He shouted to Flynn and Sully, who immediately started following him. Kroonen tried to pursue them, but Ambessa lunged at the traitor, and Kroonen had to escape down a different tunnel to avoid him.

All of the soldiers followed Ambessa, while the remaining Operatives ran through other tunnels, including the one Drake, Flynn, and Sully were running down. Drake heard the screams of dying men in the cavern behind him, but also heard something else. Several guttural shouts and yells that resounded through the tunnels. Drake felt his blood run cold as he realized the shouts were very far from human.

"What the hell was that?" Flynn asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Sounds like a goddamn animal is tearing those guys apart." Sully said, pulling Flynn along. "I wish I had a gun on me."

"Well we don't, so let's keep running." Drake said, turning down a tunnel and leading the group further into the underground caverns.

* * *

><p>Drake, Flynn, and Sully continued to maneuver through the winding tunnels until the sounds of fighting faded behind them. Needless to say, they were badly lost, and Drake kept turning in circles as if trying to get his bearing. They were now moving at a light jog, and all three were covered in sweat.<p>

"Hold on, kid." Sully gasped, stopping to catch his breath. "I'm not as young as I… Ah forget it." He said, waving a hand at Drake and plopping onto the ground.

"C'mon Sully, we gotta keep moving." Drake said, jogging back over to Sully.

"No way mate. Victor's right, let's just take a breather." Flynn said, sitting down next to Sully and leaning his head against the wall.

"But those things chasing the Operatives-"

"Are long gone." Sully interrupted. "And so are the Operatives and Kroonen and Ambessa. If they're not dead then they are in the same predicament as us. Except they have guns. So let's stop looking for trouble and just take a breath for one goddamn second." Drake sat down and Sully turned to look at him. "It also wouldn't hurt to make a plan."

"I have a plan."

"Really? Bullshit." Flynn said, smiling at Drake "You, my friend never have a plan!"

"Yeah, well this time I do. We get out of here. As soon as possible."

"Get out?" Sully asked, arching his eyebrow. "What exactly do you mean by get out?"

"We leave this cavern, we leave Rome, go somewhere safe and we leave all of this far behind us." Drake said.

"We can't leave! Kroonen has the sword!" Flynn said, jumping up.

"As much as it pains me to say this, Flynn's got a point." Sully said, looking up at Drake sympathetically. He knew Drake very well and recognized this phase. The giving up phase. It always happened, and they just needed to talk him through it.

"Listen, mate, that sword is worth a fortune. It's worth three fortunes, one for each of us! Worth more than any of that rubbish that Victor picked up earlier. This is our chance!"

"Our chance for what, Flynn?" Drake snapped angrily in return. "To get killed off? Whatever that sword is worth to you, it's not worth my life! I'm not willing to let myself end up like van Meer."

Drake stared at his two friends for a moment, waiting for a response. After a few moments of silence he stood up, turned sharply, and stormed away. Flynn looked to Sully pleadingly, and Sully ran to catch up with Drake. He grabbed the younger man by the shoulder and spun him around.

"Nate, cut the crap. You don't even know how to get out of this place." Sully said angrily. Drake pouted and pulled away.

"I'll find my own way if you two won't help me."

"You're better than this, and you know it. I know it." Sully barked. Drake stopped, but didn't turn to face Sully. "Now stop being a jackass and think about this. If Kroonen gets away with the sword, he's not just getting away with a piece of treasure worth millions, he's walking away with a deadly weapon that nobody on the surface is ready to fight against. I would much rather have something like that safely stashed away than in the hands of a homicidal maniac. Wouldn't you?"

"I don't really care, Sully." Drake said without turning. He kept walking forward and disappeared around the turn.

"Damn it! Nate, just wait a goddamn second!"

Sully ran around the corner, with Flynn following close behind. They ended up running out onto one of the bridges that were above the central chamber. Drake was standing in the middle of the bridge, staring down at the floor a dozen feet below him. Sully and Flynn joined him, also staring down. Littered along the floor were the dead bodies of several Operatives and soldiers, with van Meer's body in the center.

"Mate, this is what we're up against." Flynn said, unable to tear his eyes from the spectacle at the bottom of the chamber. "Do we really want this to be exposed to everybody up there? We have to stop him."

There were a couple of seconds of silence, during which Sully laid a comforting hand on Drake's shoulder.

"C'mon kid. Let's go get this son of a bitch."

Drake nodded and turned, walking the rest of the bridge and back into the series of tunnels that made up the underground city.

**_Author's Notes: Okay everybody, there you go, chapter 15. Now, the general consensus about the Kroonen betrayal is shock/surprise. GOOD! I really wanted to toss that twist in there, and I felt some explanation and justification was needed, hence this chapter. Also, the introduction of the mythical creature! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, another one's on its way. In the next chapter, you learn more about what these creatures are and what the story of this mysterious underground city is. Please, leave reviews and let me know how you like it so far. Thank you again for reading and reviewing! You are my loyal fans, and I am very grateful._**


	17. Chapter 16

_**CHAPTER 16**_

Drake, Flynn, and Sully continued to walk at a brisk pace through the tunnels, keeping their eyes and ears open for any sign of the Operatives, Soldiers, or whatever else was chasing them. Their bodies were tense, and all three men remained on edge as they walked. Nobody talked or made a sound. Even the scuffle of their shoes on the rock floor was carefully muted. The tunnels were eerily silent as a whole, and every few minutes the group would pause and listen to far off screaming, silently praying that the battle would stay away from them.

As the three men continued to explore the tunnels, they began to get a better idea of how the cavern was assembled. The numerous tunnels wound their way through the labyrinth, eventually leading to one of the many overhead bridges in the central chamber. The tunnels were an upward, or downward, spiral that was based around the central chamber, growing wider the higher you went. As they passed through the tunnels, they noticed that the walls were lined with several small doors, and occasionally they would peek inside of one. The rooms on the other side were small and consisted of a table and several beds, carved into the stone and lined with a ancient yellowish hide. These were people's homes, and Drake was beginning to realize just how large this community must have been. At least a thousand people, probably more. What had happened to all of them?

The trio had soon reached another bridge, the second highest bridge in the cavern. Far below them, on the floor of the central chamber, a group of soldiers wandered out. Among them was Ambessa, noticeably towering over the other men.

"That's why we haven't run into anybody." Drake whispered, pointing out the men. "It looks like most people are staying low."

"Which means that whatever is chasing them is also staying low." Flynn whispered.

Right on cue, the soldiers down below started opening fire, shooting off to the side where Drake could not see. A few arrows shot out, striking or scratching the men and killing them. Ambessa fired a few more rounds before ordering a retreat, and the men disappeared down a tunnel. Drake squinted as he saw vague golden shapes pursue the men.

"What the hell were those things?" Sully asked, and Drake simply shook his head. He had no idea. _And I don__'__t want to find out_ he thought.

Suddenly, screaming echoed down from the tunnel they had just come from. Accompanying the cries of pain were the inhuman roars of whatever creature was stalking them.

"Looks like we're about to find out." Flynn said, taking a few steps back from the tunnel.

_Well__,__ damn it__._

"C'mon, let's go!" Drake shouted, grabbing Flynn and pulling him across the bridge and into the next tunnel. They raced through the tunnel until they came onto the uppermost bridge in the cavern, but they didn't stop to look back. They got across the bridge and ran through the tunnel, which now slanted drastically upwards. Suddenly they stopped in terror as they realized that the tunnel had led to a cul-de-sac chamber.

"Oh shit." Sully grumbled, turning and looking at the several doors that surrounded them.

"They're coming closer!" Flynn shouted, and sure enough the screams of man and beast grew louder behind them. Drake made a quick decision and yanked open one of the doors.

"Quick, get in here!" He shouted, ushering Flynn and Sully into the room. He closed the door most of the way, leaving it ajar to watch what happened next.

A group of Operatives ran into the larger room and stopped, also perplexed by the dead end. An arrow flew into the room and thudded into an Operative's back. The three remaining Operatives turned and started shooting, but Drake still couldn't see what they were shooting at.

"We killed one!" An Operative shouted joyfully, but suddenly a large gold shape sprinted into the room with a bestial roar. The blur passed by the Operative, who now stood holding his neck which was spurting blood.

"What the hell…" Sully whispered as he looked over Drake's shoulders. The golden creature that had killed the Operative now moved onto the next one, literally lifting him up and tearing his body in half. Drake felt his stomach churn from the sight, but still couldn't get a good look at the creature. Whatever it was, it wielded a golden sword that was very similar to the Crocea Mors. The creature turned to the final Operative, who had fallen onto his back and was scuttling away. The creature stepped towards him, and the Operative raised a pistol to his head, opting to die by his own hands then by the blade of this creature.

The hulking beast now turned and stopped, smelling the air. For the first time, Drake got a good look at the creature that was pursuing them, and saw that it was not a creature at all, but a man. At least, for the most part.

The man was huge, at least as big as Ambessa. His muscles were massive and disproportional. His long dirty hair framed a horribly disfigured face. His skin was pale, the pale color of skin that had never seen the light of day. The man wore a Roman style tunic, and golden Roman full-body armor. As the man lumbered around the room, still smelling the air, Drake got a better look at the man's armor and weapons. The armor, blade, and crossbow were not made from gold as he had though, but Corinthian Bronze. Every piece of metal on the man was forged from the lethal substance.

The deformed behemoth turned around slowly, looking all around the room. He sniffed a couple of times then turned towards Drake, who quickly ducked behind the door. He held his breath and tried to calm his furious heartbeat, sweat forming at his hairline and dripping down his face. His muscles tensed as the footsteps came closer and Drake began, clenching and unclenching his hands as he cursed himself for not stealing a gun when they ran out of the central cavern. The footsteps stopped, and silence settled in. Drake watched in fear as a large, gnarled hand reached through the door and came to rest on the wall. Flynn and Sully started to back up, and remain out of sight, but Drake was cornered behind the door as it started to creak open.

A loud shout was heard outside and the hand stopped. Several men, whether soldiers or Operatives Drake could not tell, had just gone running through the tunnels. The creature on the other side released a roar and bolted out of the chamber and down into the passage that the shouting had come from.

In the small room, Drake, Flynn, and Sully stood rigidly frozen. Drake exhaled and collapsed onto the ground, his heart still pounding painfully. Sully stepped forward and shut the door, leaning his head against the wall and also taking deep breaths.

"What was that thing?" Flynn asked, his hands shaking.

"I… I don't know." Drake stammered, standing to his feet and patting Sully reassuringly on the back. "But let's not wait for it to come back."

Drake turned to examine the room they were in. It was small, barely large enough to fit the three men. On one side of the room was the door that they had come through, and on the other side was a larger, much heavier door.

"Shall we?" Drake offered, gesturing towards the door. Flynn and Sully nodded, each reaching for the door. The three men started to pull with all their might, and the door slowly started to slide open.

Suddenly, Flynn, Drake, and Sully dropped to the ground coughing. A disgusting, putrid smell had filled the room, causing them to gag.

"Close the door!" Sully gasped, and Drake leaned against the large door, pushing with as hard as they could. As it slid closed again, Drake managed to look inside.

"What's in there?" Flynn asked once Drake had closed the door.

"It's a huge chamber." Drake said, pausing to cough. "Filled with... well filled with shit. And human bones."

"That's bloody revolting!" Flynn interjected, making a retching face.

"Why the hell is it here?" Sully asked, still holding a handkerchief over his nose because of the smell.

"I'm guessing that whoever lived in these caverns before these creatures needed a place to dump their wastes."

"And the bones?" Flynn asked, also cringing from the lingering scent.

"I have no idea. Burial?"

"In a pile of shit?" Sully asked as he scoffed. "Sounds kinda harsh. I thought people back then were all about honor."

"Yeah, well maybe these guys did something disrespectful? Something that earned them an eternity covered in crap." Drake offered, shrugging.

"Well I vote we get out of here." Flynn said, cracking open the door and peeking out. "It's all clear out there."

Drake and Sully nodded and slid out the door back into the cul-de-sac chamber. The room was now empty except for the dead bodies that now lied on the floor. Drake took the opportunity to drop down and carefully examine the arrow that had lodged itself in one of the Operatives back.

"This looks like it is Roman Era." Drake observed, turning it over in his hands.

"Nate, do you think these guys have been down in this place since Roman times?" Sully asked, squatting down next to Drake.

"I don't know…" Drake whispered.

Just as Drake was getting lost in thought, another bellowing roar was heard from out in the tunnels.

"Oh shit…" Drake whispered, standing up and backing away. "We have to hide again!"

Drake ran back over to the room they had been hiding in, but Flynn grabbed his hand.

"Not in there!" Flynn said hastily, pulling Drake towards another door. "Let's try this one!"

Just as Flynn was dragging Drake into the room, an arrow thudded into the wall next to their heads.

"C'mon Sully!" Drake cried out as more arrows flew into the room. They hurried through the door and slammed it shut.

"Help me with this!" Flynn cried out, pushing over a large bookcase in front of the door. Drake helped Flynn push it down and raised a gun he had grabbed from one of the dead soldiers, pointing it at the door. There was a loud pounding heard on the other side of the door, and several roars. The door creaked under the assault, and several books toppled out of the bookcase covering the door. But the blockade held, and soon the room fell silent. The three men inhaled and exhaled deeply and wiped their foreheads as they glanced around the room, seeing more bookcases lining the cave walls and several tables in the center. Everything in the chamber was covered in cobwebs and had clearly not been disturbed for many decades.

"Where are we, Nate?" Sully asked, pacing through the room.

"Who cares, we're safe." Flynn mumbled, but Drake wasn't satisfied.

"It's a library." Drake said, running his hands over the scrolls that filled the carved bookcases. "An ancient library." Drake turned to Sully, who was pulling out scrolls and examining them. "Sully, I think this might also be from the Roman Era."

"Yeah, it's all written in Latin." Sully noted, joining Drake and Flynn. The two men were sifting through some of the papers that were lying on one of the tables. Drake had pulled out his journal and was furiously scribbling into it. "Can you translate it?" Sully asked as he peered over Drake's shoulder.

"I think so..." Drake said, deep in thought as he immersed himself in the documents. "And I think it tells this place's story…"

* * *

><p><em>I am near my death<em>_,__ my son__.__ I am leaving you this amongst all the other tomes of this great library__,__ so that you might know how this had come to happen__.__ It is admittedly a sad and wretched tale__,__ but one that must be told so it may be preserved__.__ Only two years after the death of our Lord Julius Caesar__,__ after we had killed Cinna the poet and after the war had been raging__,__ We__,__ the loyal Imperial Cult__,__ had begun the secret construction of this chamber__.__ It was necessary__,__ you see__,__ for there were men who wanted to stop us__,__ who wanted to kill us__.__ Do you remember__,__ the men who ransacked our home__?__ You were so young back then__.__ We needed a sanctuary__,__ a place where we could worship Caesar and raise our young in peace until the war had come to an end__.__ So here__,__ we dedicated our lives to the preservation of Julius Caesar__'__s deified soul__. __Oh how we toiled in the depths of the soil and rock for our Caesar__,__ as conspirators and rebels alike tried to destroy what we had built__.__ The beautiful column in great Caesar__'__s name__,__ destroyed by those rats__!__ It was in fact then that we knew without a doubt that our praise must be clandestine__.__ And yet__,__ the temple above was to be constructed for Caesar__,__ and we could have stopped our construction__.__ His deification was recognized__,__ and perhaps someone could open their arms and offer us a home__.__ Perhaps we could be safe… but our ambition told us that we need not stop__,__ to stop would be dishonor__.__ What was begun must continue__,__ and no temple on the surface could match ours beneath the trodden land where Caesar__'__s holy body had ascended to the gods__!__ What arrogant fools we were__,__ unable to realize that we would be sealing our own doom__._

_ After those two years__,__ we disappeared into our underground city__.__ The entire Imperial Cult__,__ along with a few other supporters__.__ We continued to expand__,__ with food and provisions brought down by our men in secret__,__ the passage hidden beneath the very altar our enemies had built in order to soothe our hate__,__ within the temple that we considered a false appeasement to Our Caesar__.__ And we continued to build__,__ and we continued to forge that sacred metal only we knew of__,__ the metal that was cast into the holy sword of our Lord Caesar__.__ But as always__,__ we wanted more__.__ We wanted not only the formula for the metal__,__ we wanted the sword itself__, __so that we may worship it and keep it sacred__.__ That holy sword we demanded and deserved__,__ and so we thought the gods should deliver it unto us__.__ But we knew that it lay__,__ rotting in the ground with a vile British Prince__.__ The only way we could obtain it was by stealing it from his tomb__.__ And so__,__ we sent several men upon a quest to retrieve that sword__.__ We also gave to them a perfect copy of the key that allowed access to our city__,__ the seal emblazoned with that star which shines as our Lord__'__s soul__.__ And these men recovered the sword__,__ and brought it to us__.__ We constructed a chamber to worship that sword__,__ and hold it in highest esteem__.__ But that quest for the sword was not so cast in shadows as we would have desired__,__ and our enemies learned of it__._

_ It was 30 long years after the death of our Caesar when we retrieved the sword__,__ 30 long years of subterranean existence__.__ But we had finally retrieved that sword and completed our earthy palace__,__ and sent our men on one last quest__.__ They were to take that second seal and hide it away__, __a place where no man but that who was a true follower of Caesar__,__ a man of wit and strength__,__ would hunt it down__.__ Through a series of tests__,__ we would be able to determine if a man was worthy of joining our people__.__ Alas, it was while these brave heroes were gone to create these tests and conceal the key that our enemies descended upon us__.__ But Caesar was on our side__,__ for we had forged armor and weapons of the sacred metal__,__ and swiftly slaughtered them__!__ Our enemies retreated__,__ recognizing the power we so wielded__.__ Yet they had gained over us a victory that seemed small__,__ but was cataclysmic__.__ They had obtained our copy of the key__,__ and destroyed it as well as the altar that marked our entrance__.__ The entrance and exit to our city was blocked__,__ with the only remaining key to our escape still lost on the surface world__,__ hidden by our chosen heroes__.__ Trapped__,__ we tried to save our rations and waited for these heroes to return__.__ But their fate is only known to the gods__.__ We tried then to reproduce the seal that was one in the same as our freedom__,__ but we could not for risk of the metal destroying the lock set in the gate__._

_It has been three further years since that fateful day__.__ Three withering years__,__ and I am near death__,__ my son__.__ You have witnessed the wickedness we have so adopted__,__ but were too young to understand__.__ Our people__,__ fearing another attack__,__ forged armor and weapons and focused less and less on writing and reading__.__ They turned their knowledge instead to war and fighting__,__ training to slay any who enters our realm__.__ And it was only when there existed no further choice that our people were forced to take more drastic measures__.__ While a flowing underground stream provided water__,__ there was no source of food__.__ That is why there remained no choice but to begin eating our kin__.__ When a man or woman died__,__ instead of a proper burial and rites according to tradition__,__ that person was consumed__.__ Oh how it wrecks my soul just thinking about this misery__,__ how hateful I am of what we are becoming__.__ And it only grows worse__.__ Those who are alive have a hideous look of disease__,__ and not only from these metals which we forge__,__ the Corinthian Bronze that all our metal is made of now__.__ What have we become__?__ And what more shall we become__?__ I fear there is no end to what wickedness lies before us__.__ I am in old age and every day nearer to death__,__ and yet I know I cannot exist here any longer__.__ Many before me have tried to swim out through the underground stream__,__ and none survive__.__ I shall now also try__,__ knowing very well that it will likely result in death__.__ But death is far better than this life we have begun__.__ May all the gods__,__ especially our deified Caesar__,__ have mercy on these barraged souls__._

Drake lowered the first scroll and glanced at Flynn and Sully. Both stared at him silently and expectantly, so Drake picked up the next scroll and began reading:

_For many generations__,__ these scrolls have been passed down from father to son__,__ and the entire library occupied by only our bloodline__.__ Only we have interest any further in these tomes of old__.__ But none have written since my nameless ancestor ended his life__,__ and now I feel I must contribute__.__ Judging from these documents__,__ I can say it has been 546 years since my ancestor wrote to his son__,__ telling of the misfortune that had befallen our people__.__ Sadly__,__ this misfortune has only grown__._

_My ancestor claimed how the people became obsessed with only fighting__,__ and what worse resorted to consuming one another__'__s flesh__.__ Well__,__ such things have only become the norm__.__ The sickness that comes with man eating man can no longer be seen__,__ human flesh is the only meal that is eaten__.__ I begin to wonder__,__ did disease ever stop ravaging our people__?__ Did we simply adapt to these diseases__,__ and now our features naturally consist of this illness__?__ I fear so__,__ I fear we are no longer even humans__.__ Our bodies have changed and manipulated to account for our wicked curse__,__ and there is no hope__._

_The battles that our men engage in grow fiercer every day__,__ The Imperials__,__ they have come to call our people__,__ out of belief that we are one in the same with the men who constructed this realm__.__ The fighting expands unto women and children as well__,__ every person is taught only three things__:__ how to fight__,__ how to forge metal__,__ and how to prepare food for consumption__.__ Another important fact is that the only materials we gave to fight are those of what we call Caesar__'__s Metal__,__ although I see from these documents that its true name is Corinthian Bronze__.__ Because of this__,__ at first many men died from the curse it carries__,__ but now they have become immune__.__ The metal__'__s sting no longer kills with a single wound__,__ for the very toxin in the metal now flows through our veins__._

_A worse development__,__ yet still__.__ Incestual relations have become as frequent as man consuming man__.__ Sister lies with brother__,__ daughter lies with father__,__ and son lies with mother__.__ All people share the same bloodline__,__ and the result is a new disfiguring disease spreading to the young__.__ Children are born deformed and manipulated__,__ with more muscle than the body can hold__.__ These disfigurements have also become the norm__,__ and also mental health has collapsed__.__ People have lost all knowledge__,__ no longer are we the proud and wise men that walked on the earth of the gods__.__ Mindless creatures__,__ hardly using words and only ever fighting__.__ Less and less man__,__ more and more animal__.__ I also am nearing death__,__ as my ancestor was as he wrote his tale__,__ and I hope my son will follow in the footsteps of our ancestors and inhabit this library and learn about how we came to be and write further so their sons may learn__,__ and then their sons may learn__.__ And perhaps my sons__,__ my descendants__,__ will be the ones to fix this damned city__.__ I certainly hope so__,__ for when I look around I can truly say that my son is the last hope for our humanity__.__ And to this wicked__,__ cursed world__,__ I say goodbye__._

Drake set down the scroll, and without even looking up picked up the next. This one was much shorter, and was harder to translate because the writing was poor and hardly legible. But the words were simplistic, and translated easily:

_Today__,__ my father died__.__ He had one wish__;__ that I write in these books he forced me to read since young__.__ I want to fight with my friends and lay with women__.__ And yet I must stay here in this room__.__ But this is what he wanted__.__ It has been many years since my ancestor died__.__ I don__'__t know how many__,__ numbers are no longer important__.__ Neither are words__.__ This work is meaningless__.__ I will not force my child to suffer this way__.__ It is better these books die away just like the fools who trapped us here__.__ But we have a perfect army__,__ we are indestructible__.__ One day we shall rise to the surface and have revenge on our enemies__.__ We are the Imperials__,__ and we are no weak scholars__.__ We are warriors__.__ I am a warrior__.__ I have a long life ahead of me__,__ and never again will I set foot in this hateful room__.__ If any man reads these papers__,__ put them down__.__ Go out and be a man__.__ Fight__.__ Train__.__ Do not waste your life on paper__.__ Do not be the fools our ancestors were__.__ Be as we are__,__ for we are true power__._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: Alright, so there is chapter 16 and a full description of these creatures and the underground city. Now, I am aware that these creatures are a bit of a weird mix between the Descendants and the Guardians from UC1 and UC2 respectively, I tried to avoid that but really couldn't come up with a very good alternative... I still tried to make them fairly original so I hope that it is not too much of a problem. Anyways, thank you all for your views and reviews. I love checking my stats and review updates and seeing that people are so interested in my story, so please leave more comments and critiques! Once again, thank you very much, and you can expect Chapter 17 to be coming in soon, where Drake, Flynn, and Sully go deeper into the underground city on a quest to stop Kroonen's evil plan!<strong>_


	18. Chapter 17

_**CHAPTER 17**_

Drake lowered the final manuscript and looked up at Sully and Flynn, who were staring in amazement. The silence endured for several minutes as each man absorbed the information he had been given. The tragedy of the Imperials was almost overwhelming, but in Drake's mind the creatures outside were still different entities than the honorable men who had been trapped underground. He started shifting through other papers, and without a word Flynn and Sully also started wandering about the room.

"Hey Nate, take a look at this." Sully called out from the other side of the room. Drake hurried over and Sully handed him a stretched out scroll covered in various drawings and what appeared to be blueprints. "What do you make of these?" The older man asked as Drake handled the parchment.

"Not sure." Drake mumbled, turning it upside down and sideways, trying to decide what the images depicted. "They are plans of some sort. For… a machine?" He looked to Sully for confirmation, but his friend simply shrugged. Flynn walked over and examined the parchment himself.

"Yeah it's definitely a machine, mate." He said, flattening it against the wall for the others to see. "This here is the center of the machine, and the joints and gears make me think it is used to stir something. But it looks like it would be connected to a wall on one side, and to another machine on the other. The machinery itself is like converted clockwork, and I'm guessing these pipes along the side are part of those pneumatics you were talking about." Flynn finished explaining, after pointing out each portion of the blueprints he was describing.

"So what is this machine and what is it used for?" Sully asked as he lit a cigar.

"Really, Sully? In here? A room filled with ancient books and scrolls." Drake asked in an almost condescending manner. Sometimes Sully just had really horrible timing with his cigars.

"I'll be careful." Sully said as he raised his arms defensively, stepping back while he puffed a cloud of smoke. "Besides, this is my last one, let me enjoy it!"

Drake rolled his eyes and turned back to Flynn, who was staring intently at the diagram and reading the small scribbles next to some of parts of the diagram.

"It's a mixer." Flynn said with a tone of surprised realization. "Like a giant eggbeater, only intended for intense heat." Drake peered over Flynn's shoulder and was able to follow along with his train of thought.

"You think this is what they smelt the Bronze with?" Drake asked, trying to figure out the mechanics Flynn seemed to understand.

"That's exactly what I'm thinking."

"But where would they keep something like that?" Sully chimed in, leaning against one of the bookcases. "That machine looks huge, we would have passed it by now."

"Well this whole underground city seems huge." Drake said, pacing into the middle of the room. "There's probably a huge smelting room somewhere around here, where they keep this machine for melting down the gold, silver, and bronze."

"Hell, that's a room full of treasure right there." Sully said, perking up. "We got to find this place!"

"And that is also where the secret to Corinthian Bronze will be kept." Flynn noted, also pacing the room. "That's where Kroonen will want to go. That's where we can steal back the Crocea Mors."

"Well first things first." Drake said, turning around the room and looking at all the shelves. "We have to find out where this room is. How much you wanna bet there's a map of these tunnels somewhere in this room?" He started ruffling through some of the papers of the stone table in front of him, and Sully and Flynn joined in suit.

The three men rummaged around the small library for a few minutes, and still yielded no results. Sully was checking the bookcase in front of the door when a strange sound was heard in the distance.

"What is that?" Flynn asked, turning around the room with a confused look on his face. The sound was so faint that its direction was unclear.

"Sounds like something groaning." Drake observed, also trying to locate the sound.

"Maybe it's Victor finally dying." Flynn said, putting a gleeful smile on his face and turning expectantly to Sully, who simply made a rude gesture in response.

"You know damn well that when I die it will be with a big hurrah, surrounded by beautiful women and one hell of a party. And you won't be invited." Sully said, pointing his smoldering cigar angrily at Flynn. "Besides," he continued, tapping the ash off the end of his cigar. "I don't even hear anything."

"Well then shush." Drake said, holding a finger up to his mouth. "It's getting loader."

Sure enough, the distant groaning was becoming louder, significantly and quickly. It was now clearly coming from outside in the tunnels. Sully now raised a knowing eyebrow as he registered the sound as well. The groaning continued getting louder, and was now becoming more of a yell. Then a furious scream. The cry became louder. _No__,__ not louder__._Drake realized in horror. _Closer__!_

"Sully, get down!" Drake yelled, but too late. An Imperial burst through the door and through the bookcase, tossing Sully to the side of the room like a rag doll. Flynn ran to help Sully up, but the Imperial lay in Drake's path. As the Imperial slowly started to lift himself up, Drake became aware of a burning smell. Sully's cigar had been knocked out of his hand and some of the documents had sparked, burning the remains of the bookcase that had been blocking the door. The burning bookcase lay behind the Imperial and in front of Flynn and Sully, separating them from Drake.

"Sully you alright?" Drake shouted, keeping his eye on the Imperial that was still staggering to its feet.

"Yeah kid, I'm fine. How are you?" Sully responded his voice still shaky.

"Uhhh, I'll get back to you on that in a few seconds." Drake said, backing up as the Imperial in front of him came to full height. The fire had spread to other bookshelves on the walls now, and the glow of the flames made the Corinthian Bronze that the Imperial wore shine brightly with a bloody color. The humanoid was massive, and it snarled as it prepared for its attack. The Imperial drew his lethal sword out of its sheath and Drake drew out his gun. The Imperial let out another bellowing roar and lunged forward, swinging his sword. Drake dodged it skillfully and took a shot at the Imperials exposed back. The bullet ricocheted off, however, and thudded into a wall.

"Damn it! His armor is too strong!" Drake said to himself, backing up further as the Imperial swirled around. Drake kept walking backwards but cursed himself as he stepped into a flame and burned his leg. There was nowhere left to run, and the Imperial knew it. The troglodyte half-man walked slowly up to Drake, a twisted grin on its deformed face. The Imperial lunged, putting its full wait into the stab. Drake jumped aside, the sword barely missing his body. He quickly rolled as the Imperial force carried it into the wall, destroying the flaming bookcase. Drake scrambled to his feet and away from the wall as several other bookcases collapsed.

"Sully! Flynn! A little help!" Drake cried out as the Imperial pulled itself out of the flaming heap. Drake noted that the Imperial had apparently lost its sword in the fire.

"We can't Nate, the flames are too high!" Flynn shouted back, and Drake glanced sideways to see Flynn peering through the flames with a gun pointed towards the Imperial.

Drake immediately redirected his attention to the Imperial, who was now charging at him again. As the Imperial threw out a punch, Drake ducked and allowed it to fly over his head. But the Imperial had anticipated this and responded by kicking out. The kick landed squarely on Drake's chest causing him to fly across the room and slam into a wall. Out of breath and his vision still swimming, Drake wasn't even able to stand up before the Imperial was upon him, grabbing him by the shirt and lifting him against the wall. Drake scanned for any weakness in the Imperial's armor, but none could be found. Except perhaps one. Just as the Imperial slammed him against the wall, Drake lashed out with his hand and was able to grab ahold of the Imperial's helmet and yank it off.

The Imperial suddenly shifted its grip, locking its massive hands around Drake's neck and pushing him higher up the wall. Drake was trying to create as much space in his windpipe as possible, but soon was seeing stars flash in front of his eyes. He looked over the shoulder of the Imperial and saw Flynn leap over the dying flames and sprint over with his gun raised. Three gunshots cracked out, but the sound was dulled by Drake's oxygen deprivation. Of the three shots, two had been solid headshots, and the Imperial dropped Drake as it staggered backwards. The creature turned to Flynn who fired off another round into its forehead. Finally, the Imperial collapsed.

Flynn and Sully immediately ran over to Drake, who laid against the wall, oblivious to the flames and heat around him. His head was hung low and he groaned softly, too hurt to speak.

"Nate, you okay?" Flynn asked desperately, afraid to so much as touch his friend. Sully was not so gentle.

"C'mon kid, lift your head up! Say something!" He shouted while shaking Drake's shoulders. Drake lolled his head back and looked at Sully, faintly smiling. His face was still bluish and covered in ash, his throat bruising from the throttling he had just received. But he still smiled, and lifted up his hand which held a piece of parchment, badly burned around the edges but still in decent condition.

"Hey, Sully. I found the map."

* * *

><p>A few minutes later, Drake, Sully, and Flynn were moving swiftly down the tunnels of the underground city. They had taken one look at the map and realized just how complicated the tunnels were. While they had stayed above the main chamber, some of the tunnels branched off to other chambers, and only certain tunnels led to these smaller chambers. Each chamber had a room at the very top that was used to dump wastes and human carcasses, each one had several living locations, and each one had large kitchens. However, each chamber also had specialized rooms. One had a training and fighting center, the main one had the library and Crocea Mors altar, one had what appeared to be a large congressional room, and one had the smelting and forging room. To pick their way across only certain bridges and take only certain turns would be difficult, but with the map they would be able to keep their course fairly easily.<p>

Every few meters, the group would stop and gather around the map, which Drake kept safe in his pocket. They would retrace the path they had taken thus far, and then plot out the path that lay ahead. While most of the journey had been uneventful, they soon came upon a tunnel where the bellowing of Imperials could be heard further down.

"How about we stay away from those things." Sully proposed, turning to Drake who was pulling out the map to check for an alternate route.

"If we double back and go down a level, we can probable still get there fairly quickly." He explained after skimming over the map. "This way." Drake turned and led them back the way they came but with a few alternate turns, soon leading to a new passage.

"Straight ahead and around this turn is another bridge. We take that one across and we will be in the next set of tunnels." Drake explained, not stopping. Flynn and Sully followed closely behind at a rapid pace. Unfortunately, the group was moving too fast to stop themselves before they rounded the turn and practically ran into a group of Operatives.

As luck would have it, the element of surprise was enough to delay the Operatives reactions. Flynn backpedaled as he pulled out his gun while Drake and Sully also pulled out their guns as they ducked into small side rooms for cover.

"Jesus, how are these guys not killed off yet!" Drake cried out as the gunfight began.

"Does it matter?" Sully shouted back, trying to shoot as accurately as possible without exposing himself. "Just shoot the bastards!"

Drake gladly obliged, peeking out from his cover and firing off a few rounds into the small group of Operatives. The Operatives had no cover, and were quickly being picked off while Drake, Flynn, and Sully remained otherwise safe. Suddenly, however, a silence descended.

"Are they gone?" Drake whispered to Sully, who simply shrugged. Drake peered out from the doorway and felt his heart plummet. The group of Operatives had parted and in the middle now stood a large heavily armored Operative wielding what appeared to be a powerful Gatling gun. There was a loud winding up sound as the gun's barrels started spinning and the Operative repositioned the gun, aiming it at Drake.

"Get back!" He cried out just as the massive caliber bullets started shredding into the wall near his head. He receded further into the room as the stream of bullets swayed back and forth across the tunnel, also stopping Sully and Flynn from moving out of their cover. Drake listened as the Gatling gun's ammo click against the ground and he knew that in the brief amount of time it would take the Operative to load another chain of ammunition, they would have to give it their all.

The bullets finally stopped and Drake leaned out of cover, rapidly firing at the center Operative. Flynn and Sully covered him by firing on the other Operatives, but when Drake ducked down to reload he was dismally aware that his bullets were completely ineffective against the heavy armor.

Persistent, Drake leaned out again and started emptying his new clip, but the large Operative ignored him, choosing instead to finish loading his ammo. Drake felt his blood run cold as the barrels started rotating and was starting to slide back into cover when out of a small side tunnel two Imperials burst out, landing on top of the Operatives who immediately refocused their assault. The center Operative pushed an Imperial off of him and fired the Gatling gun, tearing through the Corinthian Bronze armor and killing the Imperial. The second Imperial moved in quickly though, stabbing and killing a few Operatives before reaching the one that was hauling the Gatling gun. Before the Operative could redirect his powerful weapon, the Imperial stabbed his blade, cutting through Kevlar and into the Operative. The other Operatives immediately scrambled and ran out of the tunnel and towards the bridge. The Imperial, unaware of Drake, Sully, and Flynn, pursued.

"Well that was lucky." Sully commented as the three men slid out of cover, weapons still raised and senses alert.

"Yeah but more might be on their way." Drake said, edging over to the dead Operatives and picking up guns and ammunition. "Let's follow them. We can pick off any stragglers." He continued while nodding in the direction of heavy gunfire that signified more battle between Imperials and Operatives.

Sully and Flynn nodded, jogging around the corner and towards the bridge. As they ran out, they saw the ending of the fight between the Operatives and the Imperials. Fight, however, was the wrong word for how unbalanced this battle was. The first Imperial had been joined by a second, and although the Operatives were able to hold off the Imperials and even do slight damage, they were no match for the power of the Corinthian Bronze. Now only one Operative was remaining, and as he scurried away one of the Imperials loaded an arrow in its crossbow and shot the Operative.

Drake, Sully, and Flynn found themselves standing on the edge of a bridge, completely exposed to the Imperials. But the two creatures didn't even seem to notice them, lunging instead into the next tunnel towards an unseen opponent. Bursts of gunfire could be heard coming from within the tunnel, and one of the Imperials staggered backwards onto the tunnel. A shotgun blast went off and the Imperial toppled backwards with its head splattered.

Out of the tunnel came a large group of soldiers, each one facing the tunnel they were walking out of, shooting into the darkness. Ambessa was also with them, wielding a large shotgun.

"Vermoor die lelike bliksem!" Ambessa yelled to his men, firing two blasts from the shotgun. One of the soldiers shouted out, and the group stopped shooting and started cheering victoriously. Ambessa, a wide smile on his face, turned and noticed Drake, Sully, and Flynn who were still standing awkwardly at the end of the bridge, observing the fight.

"Well well, what have we here?" Ambessa chortled, leaning the shogun on his shoulder and strolling down the bridge. "How you three dom koppe survived perhaps I'll never know. But it doesn't really matter, now does it?" The other soldiers chuckled and aimed their guns at the three men, who raised their hands in defense, slowly backing into the tunnel they had just walked out of.

"Nate, what do we do?" Sully hissed.

"I'm thinking, hold on!" Drake whispered back, grinding his teeth as he shot glances around the room. If they ran back into the tunnel they would be shot down in seconds. They couldn't fight the soldiers on their own, and the certainly couldn't jump to any of the parallel bridges. They were almost entirely in the tunnel when Ambessa let out another laugh.

"So is this it? You're going to die with your arms in the air, surrendering and begging for mercy? Why can't you die like Mr. Fawkes?" At the mention of Vincent's name, Drake's eyes immediately snapped to Ambessa, burning with hatred. Ambessa's smile widened as he realized he had hit a sensitive topic for Drake. "Vincent died with courage, Nathan. You are a coward. And now you die as you live." Ambessa said as his smile turned into a scowl and he leveled his shotgun with Drake "With no courage."

Suddenly, another Imperial ran onto a parallel bridge. It let out a bellowing roar and Ambessa turned sharply towards it.

"Skiet dit af!' He commanded his soldiers, no longer focused on Drake. The soldiers complied, opening fire as the Imperial retorted with a hail of arrows shot at the soldiers.

As the battle ensued, Drake took the opportunity to sprint forward, directly at Ambessa. The last soldier had fallen dead when Ambessa fired another blast, knocking the Imperial off the bridge and far down to the bottom of the chamber. Ambessa was just starting to turn around when Drake jumped onto his back. Drake wrapped his arms around Ambessa, grabbing ahold of the shotgun and yanking it out of his hands, allowing it to fall over the edge of the bridge.

Ambessa let out a furious yell and reached back, grabbing hold of Drake and hurling him across the bridge. Drake was just getting to his feet when Ambessa reached him, swinging his fists. Drake was able to drop to one knee and dodge the punch, striking out at Ambessa's exposed sternum. The hit knocked the wind out of Ambessa, and Drake quickly followed with a hard uppercut. As Ambessa staggered backwards, Drake launched at him for another assault, but Ambessa blocked it, grabbing hold of Drake's arm and spinning him around. Ambessa started to bend Drake's arm with the intention of breaking it, but Drake dropped low again and shifted his weight, throwing Ambessa off balance. He then shot his body upwards, driving his shoulder into Ambessa's gut. The force was enough to push Ambessa towards and over the edge of the bridge, but the large soldier tightened his massive arms around Drake's body and the two of them toppled over the edge.

They fell for several meters before landing hard on the surface of a bridge beneath them. Ambessa had taken most of the blow, but Drake was still in pain and couldn't quite stand yet. His head swimming and his body aching, he crawled slowly away from Ambessa. He had only moved a few feet when he looked over his shoulder and was shocked to see Ambessa already standing up, but also noticed that right behind Ambessa was the shotgun that had fallen over the edge of the bridge above them. Ambessa had yet to notice the shotgun, and instead was facing down towards Drake. He pulled out a large knife and reached down, grabbing Drake by his shirt. He held the knife to Drake's cheek and slowly dragged it across, cutting a faint line as he sneered.

"No courage." Ambessa hissed as he stared into Drake's eyes. Ambessa reared back and lifted the knife, ready to finish the job when Drake kicked out with all his might at Ambessa's knee, hyperextending the joint as well as smashing the kneecap. Ambessa howled in pain and dropped Drake, who in a fluid motion went around Ambessa, picked up the shotgun, and rammed it into the back of Ambessa's other knee. With one knee severely injured and the other pushed forward, Ambessa's weight became too much for his legs to bear, and he dropped to his knees. As he fell, Drake stood, pressing the barrel of the shotgun into the back of Ambessa's head.

"How's this for no courage?" Drake said coldly as he pulled the trigger.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: So, what do we think of Chapter 17? A pretty good dose of action as we keep building up to the finale. A suitable death for Ambessa? I hope you all enjoyed it, and thank you for the reviews, they have been incredibly helpful! Please keep those reviews coming, and don't hold back on criticism. Next chapter we will follow Drake to the smelting chamber in the depths of the Roman underground. There's only a few chapters left and I want it to end strong. Thanks again, until next time!<strong>_


	19. Chapter 18

_**CHAPTER 18**_

Drake had been standing over Ambessa's body for several seconds before Sully called down to see if he was okay. Drake described the situation, and after looking at the map explained that there was no easy way for their group to reunite. So it was decided that Sully and Flynn, who already knew the rest of the way to the smelting chamber, would follow the initial route while Drake would progress on his own, using the map to find a new way.

Although it took a fair amount of plotting, Drake was soon able to pick out a path that would take him to his destination. As he started walking, Drake began to notice that on these lower levels, the number of bodies littering the tunnels was much higher. Most were Operatives, although the bodies of some soldiers and even the occasional Imperial could be seen.

"Great, this is just great." Drake mumbled to himself as he stepped over one Operative who had died in the middle of the tunnel, his face still twisted into a look of agonizing pain. "Wandering around alone in an underground tunnel city, pursued by genetically deformed Roman soldiers with highly toxic weapons, trying to catch up with and stop a Dutch madman from creating his own toxic weapons that will allow him to build an undefeatable army. Totally normal, right?" He mumbled, pausing briefly to examine the map. He looked up and sighed, shaking his head. "And now I'm talking to myself. C'mon, keep it together Nate!" He chided, putting the map away and continuing down the tunnel.

After walking a bit further, he came out onto a bridge that led across the main chamber and towards the next one. As he was crossing, he looked across and saw two Imperials on a nearby parallel bridge. Just as he noticed the Imperials, they also noticed him and let out loud battle cries, drawing out their crossbows and some arrows.

"Oh shit, just my luck!" Drake said as he turned to run, stumbling to the ground but then pushing himself up and off, sprinting into the next tunnel. While none of the crossbow bolts had struck him, Drake could hear the bellows of the Imperials behind him and didn't stop running.

Drake was still sprinting when he ran headlong into an Operative, causing them both to tumble to the floor. Drake was still down when another Operative reached down, grabbing him from under the armpits and lifting him up.

"Se mettre debout, le chien!" The Operative ordered in French as he lifted Drake.

"Faut-il le tuer?" The one on the floor asked him as he stood up. Drake knew enough French to know that they were debating whether or not to kill him. He struggled against the Operative holding him, but the man was simply too strong.

"Let me go!" Drake pleaded, pulling harder. "You don't understand! Those creatures are behind me!"

The Operatives looked at each other worried and then back towards where Drake had come from. Drake knew they understood him, but the real question was whether or not they would decide to keep him alive?

"Menons-le vers Jozeph." The one holding him said, and the other nodded. When Drake heard Kroonen's name, he knew he was being kept alive for the moment and just being taken hostage. He would then be able to talk Kroonen out of his foolhardy quest to obtain the secret of Corinthian Bronze. He just hoped the Operatives moved fast enough to avoid the oncoming Imperials.

The mean hurried Drake down and along some corridors, the sound of Imperials close behind them constantly. When they reached Kroonen, the Operatives threw Drake to the ground, and wordlessly stepped back. They were in a large sized bedroom, and Kroonen had been sitting on one of the bunks silently, only standing up once Drake had been thrown down in front of him.

As Kroonen slowly walked over, Drake glanced up at him. Kroonen had an angry snarl on his face, and without hesitating once he reached Drake, he kicked out and landed his boot under Drake's chin and throwing him backwards. With Drake now on his back, Kroonen squatted down in front of him, picking the Crocea Mors off a nearby table and pointing it at Drake's throat, allowing it to gently lay on his Adam's apple.

"So, tell me, why do I need you alive?" Kroonen asked, arching his eyebrow, the scowl still playing across his face. "You ruined everything. It is because of you we are trapped down here. It is because of you that everything I have lived for is falling away from underneath me. Why should I not run this blade through your gut and give myself the extreme satisfaction of watching you die?"

"I found a library." Drake started explaining, keeping his ears alert for the sound of approaching Imperials. "It had documents that explained the story of the civilization that came down here. And it had diagrams depicting the forge where these creatures create the Corinthian Bronze." Kroonen eyed Drake skeptically, his mouth changing into a frown of contemplation. Quickly, however, he raised it back into a snarl of rage.

"What does that mean to me?" He spat out angrily. "I have the Crocea Mors. All I need to do is escape."

"But wouldn't it be simpler to just find how they make the Bronze? Possibly to even extract the toxin yourself?" Drake proposed. Kroonen stood thoughtfully, but then shook his head, smiling evilly.

"No, no I think I would much rather enjoy killing you."

Drake opened his mouth to retort but got cut off by the roar of an Imperial followed by the scream of one of the guards who were standing outside. One of the other guards ran into the room, already wounded from a Corinthian Bronze arrow.

"Sir! The creatures, they're swarming us!" The guard cried out in agony as he started convulsing on the ground, blood flowing from his nose and eyes. The sound of screaming and gunshots blared outside, and Kroonen stood, pulling out from a bag one of the crossbows the Imperials carried as well as some arrows. Wielding the Crocea Mors and the now armed crossbow, Kroonen started marching towards the door.

"Kroonen!" Drake shouted out, scrambling to his feet. "Those things out there aren't just some creatures! Those are the remains of the Imperial Cult. Generations later, each one raised down here. They're immune to the toxin in the Bronze, if you go out there and try to fight them with their own weapons, you will lose."

Kroonen turned to Drake, eyeing him curiously. He had just been holding Drake at the end of a blade, but now Drake was offering advice that could potentially save him. Drake saw the confusion and immediately explained.

"There are a lot of Imperials out there, and you are running out of men. You'll need help. I also would like to escape this place with my life. And I'll need help. We can get around to killing each other later, but for now let's agree that we have a common enemy."

Kroonen continued to stare at Drake, then slowly nodded his head.

"Alright. But if you try anything, I will gun you down in an instant." Kroonen said as he tossed the crossbow aside and picked up a large sub-machine gun.

"Sounds good to me." Drake said, pulling out his own gun. And together they walked out of the room into the tunnel filled with Imperials.

* * *

><p>Although the battle had only been raging for a few minutes, carnage had already set in. Several of the Operatives were dead, but many Imperials had also fallen. At the point when Drake and Kroonen stepped out, only about a dozen Operatives remained and seven or eight Imperials. Guns blazing, the quickly tried focusing the most on Imperials wielding crossbows. While Operatives were slowly being picked off, both Kroonen and Drake were good enough to cut down the Imperial's numbers. While they had initially been surrounded, they had now focused the Imperials onto one side of the tunnel.<p>

"I'm running out of ammo!" Drake shouted as he reloaded his last clip. He eyed a gun that lay not far from him, but an Imperial was too close for him to lunge. "Jozeph, cover me!" He shouted, and Kroonen redirected his attack to focus on the Imperial standing closest to Drake. As Drake dove and grabbed the gun, the Imperial fell over dead, allowing Drake to use his momentum and keep running forward, gunning down another Imperial. He ducked into a side room for cover and looked back in time to see Kroonen do the same. The last standing Operative however, was not so fast, and an Imperial rushed him, running its blade through his stomach. Drake leaned out of cover and shot at the Imperial, blasting bullets through the back of its neck and breaking its spine.

Kroonen used the opportunity to also come out of cover and move alongside Drake, and the two of them strolled down the tunnel shooting the few remaining Imperials. When the last one had fallen, Kroonen turned to face Drake and nodded.

"I still intend on killing you, but I feel as though I should let you know that you are a very good shot."

"Likewise." Drake said, taking the backhanded compliment as positively as he could.

As the two men stood in the middle of the tunnel, more roars were coming from both ends. Drake looked both ways and saw approaching Imperials then turned to Kroonen, who was loading his gun.

"Are you crazy, we can't fight them!" Drake said, staring at Kroonen incredulously.

"Well what do you suggest?" Kroonen snapped back. Drake quickly pulled out the map and glanced at it.

"This way." He said, running down a small side tunnel to their right.

"What is that?" Kroonen asked suspiciously. "Do you have a map?"

"I found it in the library." Drake explained, looking at the map as he ran, trying to decide how to get to the smelting room. If Sully and Flynn were there, they would provide much needed support.

"So where are we going?" Kroonen asked as Drake put the map away.

"The smelting room at the bottom of the next chamber."

"Why are we going there?"

"Because that's where I'm leading you." Drake said in an annoyed tone. "I have the map, so you follow me."

"Not unless I take it."

Drake heard the cocking of a gun and stopped. He turned to see Kroonen standing, his rifle aimed at Drake's torso.

"Jozeph, stop being ridiculous, we don't have time for this." Drake said exasperatedly. He was agonizingly aware of the oncoming Imperials.

"No, Nathan. You are ridiculous. Assuming we can remain in a truce? We are enemies, even with another common enemy." Kroonen's face was pale and drenched in sweat, his finger twitching above the trigger.

"I don't have time for this." Drake said, starting to walk down the tunnel. Just a few feet further was a staircase he could run down, taking him to another tunnel that led directly to the next chamber.

"No more games, Nathan." Kroonen said, walking closer to Drake. "No more running. I don't need you in order to escape, not as long as I have that map. But I'd rather not worry about killing you. I'll let those creatures do that. So save us both time and hand it over, or I will shoot you."

"You're wasting time as it is, Jozeph. The Imperials are coming."

"Let me worry about that. Just hand me the map." Drake remained stationary. "You have five seconds. Then I will kill you."

"Why don't you just do it?" Drake asked, still scooting back.

"Respect, I suppose." Kroonen shrugged, then started to count. "1… 2… 3… 4… NO!"

Just before Kroonen said five, Drake had dropped into the spiral staircase. He sprinted down as he heard Kroonen shout out angrily. Soon, the roar of the Imperials could be heard at the top of the stairs, followed by a series of gunshots. Drake didn't stop, he kept running until he finally reached the base the next chamber. It was almost identical to the main chamber, only smaller. Kroonen's gunshots behind him had gone silent, and it seemed the Imperials had taken yet another victim. But he wasn't about to be next. Drake didn't even pause when he reached the chamber, knowing exactly which tunnel would lead him to the smelting room. The tunnel was at a drastic slope, however, and as Drake sprinted he tripped and fell several times, ripping his clothes on the hard rock and often cutting his palms.

Soon, Drake reached a large wooden door with a Corinthian Bronze frame and large Corinthian Bronze handles. He hurriedly yanked on the handles, pulling open the door. As soon as the large, heavy doors were open enough for him to slide through, Drake entered the smelting room and for the first time since running from Kroonen, stopped dead in his tracks.

The smelting chamber was huge, rising up several stories. All along the walls were a series of pipes and gears, all of which were turning and shifting. Steam whistled out of some of the pipes which led to three large machines. The machines were the same machines which were depicted on the blueprints they had found in the library. Each of these large machines was rotating in place, settled in three large vats.

The smelting room was incredibly hot and it was easy to see why. Each vat contained molten gold, silver, or bronze, the three ingredients of Corinthian Bronze. It was this molten metal which the machines were stirring to keep from solidifying. The vats themselves were super-heated by some unseen source, causing waves of heat to rise from the ground and walls.

Perhaps more impressive than the vats were what lay around them. Heaping pounds and piles of gold, silver, and bronze littered the floor around the vats. Everything from raw ore, to jewelry, to refined bars could be found in the piles, waiting to be melted down to forge weapons and armor for the Imperials.

Another thing that caught Drakes attention was two extra vats and a fourth machine much higher towards the ceiling. This fourth machine was placed above a large central vat that was apparently empty. Drake also noticed that although it was not super-heated like the other vats, large pipes as thick as his torso ran down from each of the other three large vats into this one. Another pipe ran out of this central vat and into a nearby wall, leading into what the map indicated was the forging room. He also noticed another thick pipe that led to the fifth vat. This one was slightly smaller than the other vats, and was filled with a clear silver-ish liquid. This liquid didn't seem to need a machine stirring it in order to remain in liquid form, and wasn't heated in any way.

Drake's attention finally fell upon the last feature in the room, a large metal lever set into the wall. He walked over and wrapped his hands around it. He pulled down but the lever didn't budge. He pulled harder and it slowly slid down into place. With a heavy metallic _thunk _the lever came to a rest. There was a sound of gears turning behind the wall and the lever snapped back up into its original position. Drake waited a moment in silence, and then the walls seemed to vibrate forcefully. Several gears on the wall started spinning, and those that were already spinning spun faster. The machines turned faster, and the room became even hotter than it already was. The large machine near the ceiling started spinning its paddles, slowly descending towards the large central vat. As the machine reached the vat, there was a small _click_ hear from each of the other vats. In moments, molten metal came flowing out like lava from each of the pipes that led to the three medium vats into the large vat.

The large machine started mixing the three metals together, and one by one the pipes once again clicked shut. As the machine was mixing the three metals, another clicking sound was heard from the smaller vat. The pipe immediately clicked shut again and only a very small amount of the liquid came out into the large vat. The machine in the large vat then started rotating faster and faster until yet another clicking sound was heard, and Drake watched as the large vat was emptied of its molten Corinthian Bronze and the large machine retreated back to the ceiling.

The entire process was completed in just a few moments, and Drake was standing in awe as the gears started settling down when he heard a voice behind him.

"Simply spectacular."

Drake spun around and was startled to see Kroonen, standing with an evident limp and covered in blood.

"The engineering that is involved, the technology… brilliant."

"How did you live?" Drake stammered. He was sure the Imperials had killed him earlier.

"Well, let's just say I learned that Imperials still bleed and die like humans." He said, raising his arms in display. "And as long as they are disarmed of their swords, guns have the upper hand by quite a bit. You could even say that they have come to fear guns." Drake stood in shock, jaw hanging open. "Of course, more are coming. They will be here soon. But I have enough time to kill you." Kroonen raised his rifle towards Drake. "Toss your weapon into that vat, Nathan." Kroonen said, nodding toward the vat of molten silver. Drake obliged, and with a bubbling hiss his gun was obliterated.

A groaning sound was heard behind the door, and a few Imperials came in, moving slowly and hunched over like wounded animal. Sure enough, some of the Imperials were wounded, most with their armor torn off. Many of them had looks of fury, but had wary eyes cast on the gun Kroonen held as well. A few more Imperials came in from the door on the other side of the room, and the group circled Drake and Kroonen.

"Maybe not." Drake said, smiling sadly.

"You think that matters to me?" Kroonen asked as the Imperials slowly moved inwards, sensing that this might be their opportunity to strike. Many didn't have swords, and none had crossbows. "None of that matters anymore to me." Kroonen continued. "All that matters, Nathan Drake, is that this is the end. For you, for me, for everybody. I just want to see you die."

Drake stood frozen in front of Kroonen, simply at a loss for words, a sense of dread filling him. With the Imperials closing in and Kroonen holding him at gunpoint, all seemed lost. He closed his eyes in anticipation of the gunshot. He felt the sweat trickle down the back of his neck and his heart-rate beginning to spike. As he stood there, Drake found himself trying to think of something to say, but nothing was coming to mind. There was no witty come back, there was no punch line.

While Drake's wit failed him, waves of emotion rolled over him. Anger and hate towards Kroonen, concern for Sully and Flynn, sadness that this was how it would end, and remorse for someone he loved whom he had let down. And with these lingering thoughts still floating through his mind, Drake found himself finally coming to peace, just as the gunshot cracked out.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: Well, I'm not entirely thrilled about this chapter, it felt a bit strained but I hope it served it's purpose well. I feel bad about killing Drake but with all the terrible situations he's been in it was honestly bound to happen, right? Anyways, a little low on the reviews guys, so let's try to pick back up on that please! Leave me some reviews about what you think concerning the story and I will be quite grateful.<strong>_


	20. Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

Sully stood in the doorway of the smelting room, staring at the scene before him. The Imperials in the room had all turned to face him, and seemed to slink back in fear of the firearm. Kroonen cradled his injured hand glaring angrily at Sully.

"You shot my gun!" He yelled with an unnatural fury, and Sully simply smiled, his pistol still aimed at Kroonen.

"You're goddamn right I did! And you're lucky I didn't take your whole hand off!" Sully barked back. "Kid, you armed?"

"No." Drake called back, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. His heart was still pounding from the anxiety. Sully pulled out another pistol and tossed it to Drake. They now both aimed their pistols at Kroonen.

"Up against the wall, Jozeph." Sully ordered, then turned to Drake. "What do you think, Nate? Should we kill him now?"

"Oh yeah." Drake said with a nod and smile. He turned back to Kroonen but was shocked to see him holding a small device.

"You gotta be kidding me…" Drake said, as simultaneously Sully murmured "Son of a bitch…" And Kroonen just smiled smugly.

"That's right, gentlemen." Kroonen said, holding the device higher as if on display. "I'm glad to see you both recognize this type of grenade, or more specifically, its trigger mechanism. A dead man trigger. You shoot me, I let go, and you have five seconds before this little bomb explodes. And with a room full of delicate machinery and molten metal… Well that doesn't seem like a very good idea, does it?"

"You still won't get away with this, Jozeph." Drake said, as Kroonen unlatched another small grenade from his belt.

"Oh, I think I will." Kroonen said, tossing the second grenade which started spewing smoke. As the smoke filled the room, Drake stared at Kroonen until his grinning face had become completely engulfed.

"By the way, do watch out for those Imperials!" Kroonen's voice called out. As if on cue, a large roar was heard followed by the sound of running feet. Drake turned in time to see an Imperial, huge but unarmed and most of his armor missing, looming over him. The Imperial reached towards him, and Drake fell back, firing his gun and killing the Imperial. He heard several other gunshots, presumably from Sully.

"Sully! Sully, where are you?!" Drake called out, peering through the smoke looking for either his friend or any attacking Imperials.

"I'm over here Nate." Sully called back from somewhere to Drake's left. "Hold on, I'm calling in backup. Get close to the walls."

Drake obliged, shooting down Imperials as he slowly worked his way over to the nearest wall. He hugged tightly against it while keeping his eyes peeled for any Imperials in the smoke. He was happy to note that the smoke was thinning, however, and was able to see Sully's shape clearly as the older man lifted a walkie-talkie to his mouth.

"Okay Flynn, now!"

Drake turned to face the door as he heard a familiar grinding sound. In the doorway was Flynn's frame, and in his hands was one of the Operative's Gatling guns.

Flynn let out an excited shout as the gun started firing, and Drake brought himself even closer to the wall. The huge bullets ripped through the Imperials, clanging off of the vats and walls of the chamber. By the time Flynn finished firing his gun, the smoke had entirely cleared. Drake stood up slowly and looked around the room. Dead Imperials littered the floor along with the casings of the Gatling gun's bullets. The thick vats were now peppered with dents and the walls had several large chips and holes in them.

"Well, Harry, that wasn't very subtle." Drake said with a smile as he turned to Flynn.

"Yeah, but it sure was fun." Flynn laughed as he tossed aside the Gatling gun, strolling over to Drake. "Is that all of them?"

"I think so." Drake said, looking around the room once more.

"Wait, where's Jozeph?" Sully asked, and the three men realized that Kroonen had indeed disappeared. They quickly searched the room, but the man was nowhere to be found.

"He didn't go out the front." Flynn stated as the group gathered around Drake, who was pulling out the map. "I would have cut him down in a second."

"Exactly." Drake said, tracing his finger along one of the corridors. "He could have gone one of two ways. Through the door that leads from here to the forging room, which is a dead end, or from here through a tunnel that leads to the river, which would give him access to the rest of the tunnels." Drake pointed out the underground river, which was underneath the very center of the city, with tunnels from each of the lower level rooms leading to it. Since the smelting room was on the bottom floor of their current chamber, a direct tunnel led down to the river.

"Right, I'll check the forging room, you two wait here." Sully said, walking to another door on one side of the chamber. As Drake and Flynn sat waiting, Drake asked for an explanation as to how he and Sully had managed to show up so punctually.

"Well, we got held up by some soldiers." Flynn explained, shrugging. "It took us ages to beat them down, but we got it. We were nearing the smelting room when we saw all the Imperials headed down here. I doubled back and got the Gatling gun while Victor waited near the door to make sure things didn't get too out of hand before I showed up." He finished with a smile.

Drake was about to make a comment about them taking too long when he heard Sully chuckle from behind him.

"Well, well, well, look what I found hiding in the shadows." He said, leading Kroonen into the room at gunpoint. Kroonen still held the dead-man grenade in his hand, and had the Crocea Mors dangling at his hip. Flynn immediately eyed the sword and stepped forward, but Drake laid a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"What's that?" Drake asked, pointing to a small syringe filled with fluid strapped securely onto Kroonen's belt. Kroonen smiled mischievously but remained silent.

"Answer him!" Sully said, jabbing the barrel of the gun into Kroonen's head.

"Ah! Careful Victor!" Kroonen said in a high mocking voice. "Wouldn't want my finger to slip." He wiggled the hand that held the grenade and Sully stepped back, scowling.

"What is that on your belt?" Drake asked again, more forcefully.

"Who cares, mate." Flynn said, nudging Drake. "Let's just take the Crocea Mors and go. Grab some of the gold around here, we'll be set!"

"Mr. Harry Flynn, thinking like a true treasure hunter." Kroonen chimed "Not like the high and mighty Nathan Drake. But, because you seem so interested, Mr. Drake, I will tell you. This little vial here is full of the fluid contained in the vat over there." He said, nodding towards the smaller vat. Indeed, now Drake recognized the slightly colored fluid. "The fluid that gives Corinthian Bronze its toxic properties." Kroonen continued. "I have no idea what this chemical is, but with it in my possession, I can take it to the surface, break it apart and copy it, making my own weapons 10 times faster, cheaper, and stronger than if I just brought the sword."

"Like hell you will!" Sully said, stepping forward again. But Kroonen was ready, and he quickly drew the Crocea Mors and swung it at Sully. Flynn lunged forward, but a sharp elbow from Kroonen sent him sprawling. Kroonen then bolted for the door that led down to the river, yanked it open, and turned around. He sheathed the Crocea Mors and gave a little wave to Drake before throwing the grenade into the smelting chamber and slamming the door shut.

* * *

><p>The explosion was deafening. Drake was thrown against a wall and for a moment experienced complete sensory deprivation. He couldn't see, couldn't hear, and couldn't feel anything but pain. His vision came back faster than his hearing, and he was able to see the chaos before the sound of it crashed on his ears. Sully and Flynn both appeared to be okay, a little bruised and bloody but alive nonetheless. The vats had taken severe damage and Drake observed that some were even beginning to leak. The worst damage, however, was the machinery.<p>

The explosion had been enough to destroy the wooden support and foundation for the machines. Gears were falling, pipes were broken, and as more pieces fell, more of the machine became damaged. Drake looked over to see Sully shouting at him, but he couldn't hear. Slowly though, the words came through.

"…out… Nate… get out! Come on Nate…. Flynn… need to get out!" Drake shook his head to clear out the painful mess that was the inside of his skull and focused more on Sully's words. "Come on Nate, those vats won't hold long! Grab Flynn, we need to get out!"

Drake nodded and stood shakily to his feet, staggered over to where Flynn was sitting, and helped his friend up. The two moved quickly over to Sully, avoiding falling debris and a stream of molten bronze leaking from a vat.

When they reached Sully, the three men opened the door and started to head down the passage Kroonen had run down. Suddenly, they heard a load groan and cracking sound behind them. With a ground-shaking crash, the large center machine fell from the ceiling, falling full force onto the ground and central vat. The force was too much, and the other machines collapsed as well. This combined was just enough to cause the weakened vats to explode, unleashing a huge stream of molten metal.

"Ohhh shit!" Drake cried out, turning and sprinting down the steep slope. Sully and Flynn did the same, and although they had a pretty decent head start, the splashing lava of precious metals was quickly gaining.

The tunnel was steep and winding, causing the trio to slip and tumble their way down. The ground and walls were getting noticeably cooler and wetter the further they travelled. Drake was terrifyingly aware that whenever they rounded a turn, the molten metal would splash around the turn as well. Because of the cooling temperature, the metal did move slightly slower, but Drake wasn't about to wait to see if it was cool enough to _not_ roast them in seconds_._

At the speed they were going, it was only a matter of time before they stumbled into the large cavern that housed the underground river which supported all life in the underground city. The river was fairly large, about 13 feet across and with an unknown depth. On one side, it clearly originated from a small tunnel that the river had worn into the rock, but on the other it seemed to simply disappear into the wall. Drake immediately understood how people would believe that swimming up the river and through the canal tunnel could lead to freedom, but he also understood how that could lead to drowning, given the rivers rushing speed.

However, as interesting as the presence of the river was, there was something far more interesting in the room. Kroonen. The man stood at the entrance to one of the tunnels that led up to the larger chambers, staring awestruck at the three men. Drake pulled his gun and pointed it at Kroonen, ignoring the sound of molten metal rushing down the tunnel towards them.

"Give me the vial and the Crocea Mors!" Drake shouted.

"It's too late to stop me, Nathan. I have the toxin." Kroonen retorted, taking a step back and laying a protective hand on the syringe. "But here, have a consolation prize!" Kroonen pulled the Crocea Mors from his belt and tossed it towards them. The ancient sword clanked on the stone then skittered, sliding into the depths of the river.

As soon as the Crocea Mors was thrown, Kroonen ran up the tunnel. Drake was going to follow him, when he observed with horror that Flynn had dove into the water of the river. With the molten metal nearly caught up to them, Drake had no choice. Tossing his gun aside, he jumped into the river.

The water was fast moving and freezing cold, but shockingly clear. The coldness momentarily stunned Drake, but as he surfaced to catch his breath, he noticed Flynn was floating next to him.

"What the hell Flynn!"

"I have to get it Nate. It's right there!"

"Harry, no!" Drake shouted as Flynn dove into the water. He had seen enough to know that the river was at least as deep, maybe deeper than it was wide. There was no way Flynn would get the sword in time. He quickly dove down and was able to reach out and grab Flynn's foot. After a brief underwater struggle, Drake pulled Flynn close, looped his arms under his armpits, and heaved him to the surface.

"No, Nate! No, the bloody sword! Let me go!" Flynn cried out desperately as Drake dragged him out of the water. Flynn swung a wild punch, but missed Drake by a long shot. Drake half-lifted, half-dragged Flynn to the tunnel Kroonen had run up, and Sully helped Drake carry Flynn the last few feet as the molten metal burst into the room. While there was enough metal to fill up the room, it was not enough to run up the tunnels. Drake, Sully, and Flynn collapsed breathlessly and soaking wet as the metal began to cool and block off access to the river for the rest of eternity.

"You bloody asshole." Flynn gasped, pushing himself to his feet a few minutes later. Drake gaped at him, pure surprise on his face. Was Flynn actually mad at him?

"What-"

"You stopped me!" Flynn yelled, interrupting Drake. "I could have had it! I could have had the Crocea Mors, but you stopped me!"

"He saved your goddamn life is what he did!" Sully said angrily, coming to Drake's defense.

"You shut your bloody mouth, old man!" Flynn yelled, pointing accusingly at Sully. He looked back to Drake and scowled, shaking his head. "Do you have to take everything from me?" He asked, almost sadly.

"Harry, are you not paying attention?" Drake asked, reaching out to grab his friend. "You would have died. If you went for the sword there's no way you could have made it out of there."

But Flynn didn't seem to hear, he kept shaking his head and mumbling angrily, pointing his finger at Drake.

"You know what, mate? You're a real asshole." Flynn said, now beginning to chuckle. "I mean, it's funny, really. All the shit Jozeph's been saying, about you being 'high-and-mighty', and treating me as an inferior. It's all true."

"Flynn, I don't know what you're talking about." Drake said, pleadingly. He didn't like this.

"You're just a backstabbing bastard." Flynn accused snappily.

"What the hell is your problem Flynn!" Sully said, stepping forward. Flynn quickly drew his gun and pointed it at Sully.

"I told you to shut your mouth old man!" Flynn screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. There was the click of a gun being cocked, and Flynn turned to look at Drake who was aiming his pistol at Flynn's head with a cold look of determination on his face.

"Ah, so this is how it is." Flynn said softly, lowering his gun. "I should have guessed this after that night in London. What was it you said about me? 'Just along for the ride', right? Or was it that I have no morals. I would 'sell out anyone' just because according to you I'm a greedy bastard. That's right isn't it?" Drake lowered his gun, his eyes full of sympathy for Flynn.

"I didn't know you heard…"

"Yeah, well I did." Flynn said, turning his back stubbornly to the other two. "You know, Nate, you are not some genius god like you think you are. You're a treasure hunter with a big ego and a knack for picking the right side to fight for. But you're no hero. Oh, I know you fancy yourself a hero; you really think you're top shit. But you're not." Flynn turned towards Drake, his eyes still sad. "You just going around, flaunting all this self-righteous crap, but you're in it for the money just as much as I am. Everything else comes second. You're a traitor, Nate, to everybody around you. Because you deny that you are as low as the lowest scum of the earth."

Drake stared in shock at Flynn, who now proceeded to walk angrily up the tunnel. Drake looked to Sully in confusion, but his old friend simply shrugged.

"Flynn, wait up!" Drake called out, running after Flynn up the tunnel, closer to the surface and Kroonen.

Damn it, Harry! Wait for one second!" Drake called out as he kept running after Flynn. "I'm sorry, okay?"

Flynn continued to ignore Drake and kept walking.

"I know I can be an idiot sometimes, but I really am sorry."

Still, silence.

"I don't think you're gonna get anything out of him, kid." Sully said, and Drake glanced between the two. He let out a sigh of resignation and shook his head. "Fine, he doesn't want to talk to me? That's alright. Immature bastard…" Drake grumbled quietly, but kept his eye on Flynn who was walking briskly ahead of them.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes<strong>__**: Okay, so Drake lived, haha. Only one more full chapter left before this story comes to conclusion. I hope it is enjoyable, and I hope you all like the way the ending is turning out! Next chapter, Drake gets his last chance to stop Kroonen from escaping with the toxin and wreaking havoc on the surface world. Please leave reviews to let me know what you think! Thanks again!**_


	21. Chapter 20

_**CHAPTER 20**_

As the group hurried along, Drake became suddenly very aware of their circumstances. Kroonen had escaped. For all Drake knew, he had already left the caverns, and he had the toxin with him. But it also dawned on him that in order to leave the underground city, Kroonen would need the key, the seal the Imperial Cult had forged to limit access to their underground kingdom. Drake had no idea where it had gone; he only knew that it had been lost when the Operatives had first emerged into the main cavern. If Kroonen had yet to find the seal, he had no means of escape. Drake quickened his pace, hoping desperately that by some miracle Kroonen had not yet managed to leave the underground city.

At this faster rate, Drake soon entered a main tunnel that led towards the main cavern. He was almost at a running pace now, with Sully and Flynn barely managing to keep up. As he ran out into the main cavern, he caught sight of Kroonen, squatting down in the corner of the chamber with his back turned to Drake. As he stood up, Drake noticed that in his hand he was holding the seal that acted as the key to the underground city.

Drake began to move towards Kroonen when he saw out of the corner of his eye Flynn heading off in a separate direction. Drake turned to Sully, who was close behind him, and whispered.

"Where is he going?"

"Going to raid the room where we found the sword." Sully explained with a shrug. "Trying to grab more gold?"

Drake nodded then turned to face Kroonen again, who was still unaware of their presence. He could deal with Flynn later. Right now, Kroonen was the main focus, and at this moment he was walking down the entrance corridor towards the sand trap room. Drake turned and nodded to Sully a sign of confirmation, the two experienced friends sharing a silent plot. The two of them moved as quickly yet quietly as they could, turning the corner sharply and slowing down to watch Kroonen.

When Kroonen drew near to the large door of the sand room, he stopped on a stone that dropped down under his weight. The door slid open, and the door on the other side of the trap chamber also opened. Kroonen walked straight through, the door sliding down behind him.

"Let's go." Drake said to Sully, running forward.

The two men ran towards the door, standing on the same piece of floor Kroonen had. As expected, the tile lowered under their weight and the door opened wide. A surprised Kroonen turned around sharply, and with a look of shock, he stared across the chamber at Drake and Sully.

"Drake?!" Kroonen gasped.

"That's right you son of a bitch." Drake said, running forward. He signaled for Sully to stay on the tile, keeping the doors open as he raced toward Kroonen. Drake could see in Kroonen's eyes a moment of hesitation, then replaced by determination as he charged forward to meet Drake.

The two men rammed into each other, and Drake was shocked at just how strong Kroonen was. He barely kept his footing as the two of them grappled, and toppled to the floor when, with a quick sweep of his leg, Kroonen knocked Drake down.

"I know you are strong because you beat Mason," Kroonen sneered "but all he had was brute strength. I have actual training and skill."

Kroonen dropped down, driving his fist towards Drake, but Drake rolled out of the way, causing Kroonen to slam his fist into the ground. Drake jumped up and jutted out with his knee, striking Kroonen in the head.

"Yeah, well clearly not enough training." Drake said with a cocky smile. Kroonen scowled and leapt up, grabbing Drake and forcing him against a wall.

"I can't get a clear shot!" Sully shouted from his position on the tile.

"Then don't shoot." Drake grunted back as he tried to wrestle free of Kroonen's grip.

"No shit don't shoot."

Drake managed to twist around and free enough space to drop away from Kroonen. He tried to land a few punches as well, but Kroonen was too fast and managed to block them all. It was then that Kroonen started switching to the offensive, and Drake got a real taste of what kind of damage the man could do.

The punches came in fast and hard, smacking Drake in the ribs and face. As much as he tried to block them, most of the strikes went straight through his defenses. After one particularly hard strike, Drake was knocked backwards, falling to the ground in the frame of the massive doorway. Kroonen walked over and fit his foot on Drake's neck.

"Now to end this once and for all!" He said menacingly, applying pressure to Drake's throat.

"I don't think so!" Came Sully's gruff voice. Drake couldn't see much, but he did see Sully's pistol swing into his vision, smashing into Kroonen's nose, causing him to tumble back.

"Way to go Sully!" Drake cheered. He stood up from the ground and turned to face his friend. But because Sully had moved off the tile to hit Kroonen, the door was now beginning to slide down, separating Drake and Sully. As disconcerting as this separation was, Drake was far more distracted by something else.

"Sully, behind you!" He warned, fear ringing through his voice. Sully turned and saw exactly what was scaring Drake so badly. A swarm of Imperials, probably the last remaining few of the entire civilization. Some were armored and armed, others in shambles from a previous battle.

Drake could no longer see anything above Sully's waist, but heard the older man cock his trusty pistol. A sense of dread filled him as he realized Sully was planning on fighting the swarm on his own. He dropped to his hands and knees to shout through the small opening of the closing door.

"Sullivan, what the hell are you doing?! Get under here!" He cried out.

"Don't worry about me, Nate." Sully responded, not an ounce of fear in his voice. "I may be old, but I can still handle these guys. You go after Kroonen, I'll be fine."

Before Drake could say anything else, the door slammed against the ground, sealing itself shut.

* * *

><p>Drake stood up from his position on the floor and turned around. The opposite door was still open, and Kroonen stood leaning in the doorway, mopping blood off of his face.<p>

"I think my nose will be permanently deformed having been smashed so many times." Kroonen complained, not even looking up at Drake.

"That's the least of your worries." Drake snarled, pulling out his pistol. He only had one clip left, but he really only needed one bullet. Drake stepped forward, but Kroonen held up the syringe of toxin.

"This is all you really want, isn't it?" Kroonen said, and Drake stopped in his tracks. "Why do you want it so bad? Killing me would have the same effect, and is far simpler than stealing the vial from me. So why is it so important that you take it? Do you plan to use it?"

"No..." Drake said, pausing to think about the question. For the first time since the door had shut, Kroonen looked at Drake.

"So you don't even know, do you?" Kroonen chuckled and stood straight, walking slowly towards Drake with his hands in the air. "All you know is that you need to stop me; stop the bad guy, save the world." Kroonen shook his head, still laughing. "You really are as self-righteous as you pretend to be. How impudently pious." Kroonen was now within arm's reach of Drake, and the gun was practically touching his forehead.

"One more step and I blow out your brains." Drake said. It had been a good question though. Why didn't he just kill Kroonen? He wasn't sure, all he knew is that he couldn't kill him right now. There needed to be something more…

"Perhaps I should get to the point." Kroonen said, still staring into Drake's eyes intensely.

"Please. Do." Drake said, his voice dripping with sarcastic anger.

"I want to make a proposition." Kroonen said, smiling as if this were some business deal. "You let me go, you put aside your need to be the hero for one moment and let me run up those stairs and to my remaining army." Drake opened his mouth to speak but Kroonen hushed him. "Ah-ah, wait to hear my end of the deal. Quid pro quo, after all. In return I will do two things for you. I will give you a small sample of the toxin for you to take, allowing you to try to find a cure in the time it takes me to develop my weapons. Also, I will give you this underground city."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Drake asked, his eyebrows twitching in confusion.

"Quite simply, I have the key that raises the staircase." Kroonen explained. "Oh, and this." Kroonen pulled a small remote control out of his pocket and pressed a button. "On our way down here, Mason planted some explosives along the stairwell. I just activated them. We have twenty minutes. I can disengage the explosives at any time. Otherwise, the stairs will be destroyed, either trapping us down here or making it so no man will ever see this place again. So what do you say? A chance to save the world through a cure, and the ability to show the world this wonder and claim it's fame for yourself. All you need to do is let me go."

Drake stared at Kroonen for a few tense seconds. The sound of Sully's firefight on the other side of the door was barely audible, but it was enough to remind Drake that they were pressed for time.

"Tough luck, Jozeph. You're not getting out of here." Drake said, and Kroonen's face dropped into a tight frown. For a moment, Drake thought Kroonen was going to make another point and keep arguing. Instead, Kroonen's arm shot out at an incredible speed, grabbing ahold of Drake's gun and twisting it out of his grip. The gun went sliding all the way across the chamber, skidding past the door frame. Drake and Kroonen grappled briefly, and Drake wound up for a head-butt. Unfortunately, Kroonen had the same thought at the same time, and the two men bashed heads forcefully together. Both staggered and fell to the ground. Drake's head felt like it had been hit with a rock, lights danced before his eyes and his vision blurred slightly. The room felt like it was spinning, and he clutched his head as he rolled on the ground.

Drake started slowly getting to his feet, using the wall to support his weight. He turned his head and saw Kroonen doing the same, but headed towards the gun and exit. Drake stumbled around, trying to regain his balance, when he toppled against the closed door. Kroonen was still making quick progress towards the chamber exit, and Drake needed to act quickly. An idea occurred to him, and as foolish as it might be, it seemed his only option.

Lifting himself to his feet once more, Drake reached up and out with his hands, groping against the door. Soon he found what he was looking for, and he turned the dials set in the door. The opposite door slammed shut, inches from Kroonen's face, sealing them both in the sand trap chamber. Drake now stood to full height, most of his head pain having faded. Kroonen stood still for a moment, then slowly turned to face Drake just as the sand started trickling out of the roof.

"15 minutes, Nathan." Kroonen said, lifting up the device he had. "And you can't turn it off without the code that only I know."

"Well then we can both be trapped down here." Drake said, walking forward while holding a fighting pose.

"You can't beat me, Nathan."

"I don't need to beat you. I just need to stall you for 15 minutes."

"Go ahead and try."

"Oh, I will."

Just as Drake was reaching Kroonen, who had strapped the vial back to his belt and was now also in a fighting pose, Drake kicked out, launching a cloud of the ankle-high sand into Kroonen's face. Kroonen cried out in surprised and his hands went up. Drake dropped in, jabbing him in the stomach while grasping the vial. As Kroonen reeled back, Drake managed to unstrap the vial.

"No!" Kroonen cried out, tackling Drake. The syringe flew out of Drake's hands and onto a pile of sand. Kroonen pinned down Drake, trying to hold his face down while reaching for the vial that was being covered up by the growing pile of sand. Drake bucked upwards, causing Kroonen to fall forward and face-plant.

Drake rolled over and plunged his hand into the sand, being careful not to get stabbed by the syringe needle. He wrapped his hand around the vial just as Kroonen kicked him under the jaw, and he toppled back. Kroonen caught sight of the vial in Drake's hand and snarled.

"Give it to me!"

Drake scrambled to his feet to avoid another kick, and Kroonen instead switched to fists. Drake tried as hard as he could to block while defending the vial, but he was still taking a heavy beating. He soon felt the wall behind his back and could move no further. Kroonen rammed him hard using his shoulder, knocking the breath out of Drake and causing him to drop the syringe. Kroonen reached down to pick it up, and Drake too the opportunity to lace his fingers together and bring his double fist smashing down on Kroonen's back. He followed it up with a hard knee and then a kick to the chest.

Kroonen had been unable to pick the syringe up, and Drake now fished it out of the waist high sand. But Kroonen was on him again, grabbing his wrist and trying to pull it down while Drake kept it as straight up as he could, using his free hand to block attacks from Kroonen's free hand.

"Give… it… to… me!" Kroonen grunted angrily, trying harder to pull the syringe closer. With the sand gathering, his movement was limited and kept the vial in Drake's hand just out of reach.

"You want it so bad?" Drake asked, putting more effort into pulling his hand away, so Kroonen tried harder to pull it towards himself. "Here, take it!" Drake shouted, now shifting his efforts, pushing forward with the arm holding the syringe.

Kroonen, unprepared for the sudden shift in resistance, was unable to react fast enough to stop Drake. The syringe plunged into his neck, and the fluid was quickly injected into his body.

"NOOOO!" Kroonen cried, pulling out the syringe and screaming in pain, clawing at his neck. Drake pulled himself out of the sand and crawled over to the door, turning the dials. Kroonen sank into the sand still screaming, and Drake hurried to dial in the ciphered code before the sands engulfed him as well.

As soon as all the dials were set, there was the familiar grinding of gears as the sand drained and was lifted up the walls. Both doors slid open, and Drake immediately looked through to check on Sully.

Thankfully, his friend was alive, surrounded by dead Imperials. Also standing there with an Uzi in his hand was Flynn.

"About time you finished in there." Sully said as soon as he saw Drake. "Look who showed up to help." He said while jerking his thumb in Flynn's direction. Flynn and Drake looked at each other, but remained silent. Clearly the tension remained.

"Sully, we have to go." Drake said, turning and leading them through the chamber. As soon as they walked in, they had to stop and stare at the body on the ground.

"Jesus, is that Kroonen?" Sully asked. It was a fair question, for the body was entirely unrecognizable. The hair, teeth, and nails had all fallen out. The eyes looked like they had melted in their sockets and blood dripped from the mouth, ears , and nose. Perhaps worst was the fact that, although having died only moments before, the skin looked as though it had been dead and decaying for several years.

Drake walked over and quickly patted down the body, fishing from Kroonen's pocket the seal that acted as key to the underground city as well as the device he had used to arm the bombs. It was covered in several buttons, many numbered, and Drake didn't dare to touch a single one. What he was interested in was the small screen that had the word "ARMED" in red displayed on the top and a small digital timer ticking underneath it.

"Oh shit, we got to go!" Drake exclaimed, dropping the device.

"What the hell, kid?" Sully asked.

"There are bombs set on the stairs. We have a little over four minutes before they go off and we get trapped down here." Drake explained, running down the tunnel to the stairs and quickly setting the seal in place. The stairs soon appeared, winding their way up to the surface. Drake spotted the bombs, small blinking red lights, set every few feet up the staircase.

"Let's go!" he shouted, sprinting up. Sully and Flynn followed closely, running up the stairs towards the surface. Drake noticed that the lights on the bombs were beginning to blink faster. He quickened his pace, mentally estimating the two minutes they had to escape. 90 seconds…

The group toppled out of the staircase onto the surface, drenched in sweat and out of breath. They had escaped with maybe ten seconds to spare. Drake looked around and saw that the sun was just beginning to rise over the empty Roman Forum, and he realized they had been underground for over 24 hours.

Drake looked down at the seal that was in his hands and made a quick decision. He turned towards the staircase and tossed the seal into and down it. Only a few seconds after, loud explosions sounded off, and the marble staircase shuddered violently, then crumbled down into itself. The dirt around the secret entrance sagged and caved it, filling up the space. Soon, all that remained of the altar and secret entrance to the underground city of the Imperials was a slight dip in the otherwise flat ground.

* * *

><p>After they had all caught their breath, Flynn quickly turned and left them behind. Drake tried to insist that he stay, but Flynn simply called him a traitorous backstabber and left them. As Drake and Sully stood in the Forum, a small group of police officers arrived, attracted by the explosions. Seeing Drake and Sully, beaten and covered in blood, they promptly arrested the two men.<p>

As they sat in the police station, Drake was afraid he would be spending the next few months, or years, in jail. However, an officer came in after an hour or so and informed them that due to a technicality, they were to be released. Drake was confused until he saw Sully and one of the Captains share a smile and nod, a sign that their freedom was the handiwork of another one of Sully's "called-in favors".

"So what do we do now?" Drake asked, stretching out in front of the police station as a cool breeze drifted by. It was a beautiful day in Rome, and right now he felt lucky just to be alive. According to Sully, they were also very lucky to have been caught by municipal police and not the Carabinieri; if that had been the case no friends could save them.

"I suppose we should return to Corfu soon. We do have to take a train all the way to Brindisi before we can even start sailing back." Sully turned to Drake and smiled. "But we do have two more days to get there, and it will only take one day."

"So a day relaxing in Rome?" Drake asked, returning the smile.

"A day relaxing in Rome sounds fantastic. Let me just buy some cigars."

"One of your cigars nearly killed us." Drake said, laughing. Sully laughed back, though grew silent once the laughter faded. There was a brief moment of soberness as the elation waned.

"We really dodged a bullet back there, didn't we?" Sully asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Sully, I think it's fair to say we dodged several bullets." Drake retorted, leaning against the wall of a tobacco store while waving Sully toward the entrance. Sully was about to walk in but stopped in the doorway and looked at Drake, trying to read him.

"We sure did, kid. We sure did."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: Well, we've come a long way everybody, but finally we have reached the conclusion. I'll post the epilogue in a day or so, but that's the majority of the adventure. Thanks to everybody for reading my story and leaving such wonderful reviews, I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing. I am already working on another book, although it is in more of a gestation period. Those who have been following this story and enjoy my writing will receive a message one of these days letting you know when said story is up on fictionpress. Thank you all again for your time.<strong>_


	22. Epilogue

_**Epilogue**_

A few weeks later, Drake was relaxing on a leaned back chair under one of the various straw umbrellas that littered the beach outside Nadia Michelakos' home turned bed and breakfast. He glanced down the beach at a small bar that Nadia owned, which had become his job to operate, just to make sure no tourists were wandering over. Maybe he would go over and grab a beer for himself. He was permitted free beers, everything else cost money, but he wasn't really a cocktail or shots kind of guy anyways.

"Aren't you supposed to be working?"

Drake sat up and shaded his eyes, looking through the glaring sun at Sully. The older man was walking over with his Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned and revealing his white sleeveless undershirt.

"Do you see anybody at the bar?" Drake asked as Sully sat down.

"Well, no. But you could at least stay at your post!" He barked, and Drake simply laughed. After meeting up with Nadia and Miranda, they decided a few weeks of vacation would be a good idea. So far, it had been very relieving.

"Any news about Flynn?" Drake asked, and Sully looked at him critically.

"You need to stop worrying about him!" But when Sully saw Drake wasn't letting up, he sighed and continued. "I heard from a friend in London that he's back on the market as a guy for hire." Sully said. Drake nodded, still deep in thought.

"I hope he's keeping out of trouble." Drake said, thinking aloud.

"He's Flynn, he is always in trouble somehow." Sully chuckled. Drake was silent again, digging his toes into the warm sand.

"What about Rome? Any news there?"

"Yeah, a bit." Sully said, not really focused on the conversation. "They tried excavating the area, but all they found was some bits of marble. They cancelled the work, decided it was fruitless." Drake kept nodding, soaking up the information. But right now his mind was on something else, probably the same thing Sully's mind was on.

"Before I forget," Drake said, interrupting the silence. "Take this." He handed Sully a piece of paper, and it was received with a quizzical look. "My new phone number." Drake explained, with a small shrug.

"Ah…" was all that Sully said for a few moments. "You really are going through with

this, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Just for now. It's a temporary thing." Now Sully was the one nodding, and the

silence set in again.

"Kid…" Sully started, but before he could finish his sentence somebody called his name. Both men turned to face the house, where Nadia was standing on the porch wearing a silk bathrobe. She was waving to Sully, and he turned to Drake, smiling sheepishly.

"Well, duty calls." With that, Sully stood up and headed to the house, giving a curt nod

to Drake as a goodbye. Drake gave a weak wave then stood up. He decided it was time for a beer. He walked over to the bar, went around the counter to grab his beer and sat down on one of the stools. For a moment he just took it all in. The straw roof, the stools and tables, the palm trees, the colorful flags and Christmas lights strung on the rafters, the rack of booze, the chalkboard displaying the day's special… He cracked open the beer and took a long draw. Probably as close to paradise as he would get.

A shadow was cast over the bar and Drake looked up to see Miranda standing at the other end of the bar. She smiled feebly then walked over and took a seat next to him.

"So this is it then?" She asked, and Drake shrugged.

"I don't think that this counts as giving up." He said.

"You're retiring." She said with more than a little bit of resent.

"I prefer to call it a vacation."

Miranda rolled her eyes and Drake chuckled. But there was some honesty in her comments. He was taking a temporary retirement from treasure hunting, opting to work for Nadia and abandon his previous life.

"So how long will you be here?"

"I don't know, a year or so, maybe more." Drake said with a shrug. "I changed my number and have no email, so if anybody needs me to do a job they have to go through the trouble of finding me. And even then I'd only accept if it was big."

"And you're sure this is where you want to stay? I leave tomorrow; you could come back to the States with me." Miranda offered, but Drake shook his head.

"Everybody keeps asking me if I'm sure. Trust me, I'm sure." He looked at Miranda, making the sincerity of his statement very clear. "This is what I want; this is where I want to stay. This is where I want to work and live. This is my new home."

"For now?" Miranda asked, and Drake paused. No, he didn't want to leave treasure hunting behind for good, he just needed a break.

"Yeah, just for now." Miranda nodded and stood up. She kissed him lightly on the forehead and wished him good luck before heading back inside. He turned back to the bar and sat the beer on the counter. Reaching over, he flicked on the radio behind the bar and listened to some music as he relaxed. Yes, this was his home. For now…

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's (final) notes: Ah, what a bittersweet moment! I hope everybody enjoyed the ending. Not much to say except another big thank you for your time and reviews, and hopefully you'll see some more of my writings surfacing one of these days!<strong>_


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